The girl next door
by Kindle-the-Stars
Summary: Bucky Barnes, formerly known as the Winter Soldier, had intended to be invisible in Bucharest - to eke out a lonely existence in his small apartment and busy himself with honest work down in the industrial area. He hadn't planned on his new neighbour being determined to befriend him. A story of biscuits, broken elevators and thin walls ... but mostly biscuits. Bucky/OC
1. September rain

Bucky was sat on the small, sagging sofa in his apartment in Bucharest with a notebook open and balanced on his leg.

The cramped, studio apartment was near delict, with holes in the plaster walls, but compared to his previous accomodations it was more than sufficient for his needs. It was situated in a fairly quiet area of the city with a landlord who didn't ask too many questions and didn't mind cash payments so long as they were regular. The top floor apartment allowed multiple exits from both the front door and the roof. It was sparsely furnished in case he needed to get a quick get away; a stained, uncovered mattress with a sleeping bag, a metal table, a few kitchen utensils and the sofa was the only furniture he owned.

A late summer rainstorm was beating against the newspaper covered windows, keeping him inside on his day off from the warehouses rather than wandering the city, as he was often wont to do when he wasn't working. He knew every road, alleyway and highway within a fifteen kilometer radius of the apartment building and had numerous escape routes mapped out in his mind for any eventuality.

The notebook he was thumbing his way through was one of several he owned, the rest of them stored under the floorboards. He wasn't writing in it, a cheap biro untouched on the arm of the sofa, but rather was rereading the memories and facts that he had written down. This was a common habit for him; he often found that he had forgotten things in the time between writing and rereading them for a second time, and so he was trying to reinforce the memories in his mind.

 _Women used to match their lipstick and nails._

 _Steve's mothers name was Sarah._

 _The Cyclone was a roller coaster in New York._

A distinct thunk, thunk, thunking sound caught his attention, making him sit up straight and alert, narrowing his eyes at the door. Footsteps became audible as well - a heavy suitcase being dragged up the stairs of the building, hitting every step as it went.

The thunking sound turned to squeaky wheels as it reached the top of the stairs. His eyes darted quickly to the floorboards that hid his escape bag and hand brushed the knife tucked into his boot as the footsteps came closer still, on his floor and right outside his door.

Tense as a bowstring, he waited, ready to spring into action at the first sign of an attack. His sharp ears picked up the faint jingle of keys and the sound of a door opening - next door to him.

He relaxed ever so slightly.

There were only three apartments on each floor of this building; this floor had his own apartment, one belonging to an old, nearly deaf Romanian man and an apartment that had been empty since his arrival three weeks ago, one that had been out of his price range due to being in significantly better condition than his own.

It would appear that he had a new neighbour.

Old Mr Paraschiv was harmless, he knew, but a new neighbour presented unknown variables and a possible threat.

Wanting to assess the situation, he made his way to the door and looked out of the peephole, but the angle was all wrong and he couldn't see their door. He was about to move away when he heard the sound of the apartment door closing, then a dark haired, feminine figure wearing a raincoat walked briefly passed his door before skipping down the stairs, much lighter on her feet going down than when she had been coming up with the heavy suitcase.

For the next half hour or so she came and went with two more suitcases and a few boxes, laboriously dragging them up the several flights of stairs to the top floor. He couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for her; the elevator in the building had been out of order since before he had moved in and they were six floors up, but also wasn't about to go and offer help to a complete stranger.

He was rather surprised by the sudden flash of guilt that then followed that thought, practically hearing his mother's voice chiding him for not helping a lady in need.

Their apartments shared a thin wall and he could hear her moving about the space once she had finished carrying things upstairs. A muffled conversation followed, though he couldn't hear anyone else speaking so assumed that she must be on the phone. He could hear that she was speaking English though, which was mildly alarming - he would have prefered it if she was Romanian, he was too easily recognised to English speakers.

Curious, he put his ear to the wall that adjoined her apartment to listen, hoping to glean some information on the new neighbour.

"... furnished in the most _minimal_ sense of the word, I'll have to go furniture shopping ASAP," she was saying, her accent distinctly British and tugging on memories of being based in London during the War. "The mattress and table are fine, but everything else … Yeah, Mum would go spare if she saw this place … It's not my fault, Will! This was the best I could get last minute … Water damage from a burst pipe, apparently. Enough to make the upper floors unstable. The whole house was written off and is going to be demolished. At least I think that's what they were saying, you know how crap my Romanian is … Yeah … This building seems alright - well, aside from the broken lift - and the neighbourhood is fine from what I've seen, but it's just a pain ... Yeah, I know … I _know_ , Will! This isn't the first time I've lived on my own … You're such a jerk ... Anyway, I better unpack what I can. I'll call you next week … Yeah, yeah, Iove you too ... Bye."

Deciding that his new neighbour would need further scrutiny to deduce her threat level, Bucky made his way around his own apartment, checking each of his nooks and hiding places in case he needed to leave due to her presence and mentally recalculating the viability of each of his escape routes since going through the previously vacant apartment was no longer as feasible as it had once been.

He was trying to ignore the faint noises coming from his neighbour's apartment, but the sound of a knock on a door a few minutes later - not his own - had him jerking to attention once again, having been busy checking the ammo in each of his guns. The knock was followed by the quiet murmur of a conversation, then a brief silence.

Another knock, this time on his own door and loud enough to make him flinch automatically,

He clicked the safety off his gun as he stood - it was the first time anyone had ever knocked on his door since his arrival.

Hesitantly, he made his way to the door and looked warily through the peephole once more, the loaded gun lowered by his side.

A young woman was standing outside, the same height and colouring as the new neighbour that he had glimpsed earlier but no longer wearing the raincoat. She was distorted by the glass, but he could make out that she had dark hair and was wringing her hands in front of her like she was nervous.

Seeing that she wasn't visibly holding a weapon, he carefully opened the door just a crack, keeping the gun hidden in his gloved metal hand.

The girl looked pleased that he had answered the door and smiled up at him.

" _Hello, my name is Georgiana,"_ she said slowly in heavily accented Romanian, clearly trying her hardest and stumbling over some of the words and grammar. " _I am your … recent neighbour. I want to … greet you_?"

Bucky stared at her for a long moment, trying to work out if this was a trap of some kind.

She didn't look all that threatening, barely even clearing his shoulder, but he had trained enough Red Room assassins to know that looks, particularly feminine looks, could be deeply deceiving.

She was wearing a button up blouse and jeans that were wet through at the hem. He could see that her long hair wasn't as dark as he'd originally thought, but rather it was heavy with moisture, no doubt from the heavy September rain outside, and drying to a lighter, reddish brown colour at the ends.

The girl's smile faltered and she shifted awkwardly under his scrutiny - he realised that he had been silently staring at her for far too long.

"You're not from Romania, are you?" he decided to reply in English - speaking to her in his native language was a risk, but if she was a threat then it would be better to deduce her motives sooner rather than later.

She visibly brightened at his words, looking like the sun had come out. "You speak English!" she replied, a wide and relieved smile spreading over her face. "No, I've just arrived today. I'm studying here in Bucharest for a year for my PhD before I go back to England. I was supposed to be in a student house but that fell through just a few days ago so I had to find a flat pretty last minute," she explained, speaking far too quickly and making him blink at her as he digested the torrent of information. "I've been _trying_ to learn Romanian over the summer, but based on the conversation I just had with Mr Para-Paraschiv - _Paraschiv_ , am I saying that right? - well, I clearly still have a long way to go," she said with a faint, self-deprecating laugh, stumbling over the Romanian name as she gestured to their other neighbour's door.

He simply stared at her - that was the most anyone had spoken to him in months.

Her enthusiasm visibly wilted when he didn't reply, but then seemed to rally herself, another smile appearing on her face. "Anyway, I just wanted to introduce myself - Mum says it's the neighbourly thing to do," she said with another small laugh, clasping her hands and rocking on her toes. "So, I guess I'll, uh …" she trailed off and gestured towards her own door.

He didn't reply, still watching her with his head cocked ever so slightly to one side; she nodded once at him, gave him a small smile and then turned to head back to her apartment.

He was just closing the door, ready to mentally unpack the brief, unexpected conversation and decide her threat level, when she called out to him once more.

"Hey, wait a second," she said, having paused and turned at her doorway. "I didn't actually catch your name."

That was because he hadn't given it to her, technically she hadn't even asked.

" _Bucky?" Steve said in shock, straightening up and staring at him in the midst of their fight in the streets of DC._

He stared at the woman, parting his lips ready to reply to her.

" _Your name is James … Buchanan Barnes," Steve said, gasping for breath as they fought on the burning helicarrier_.

He had given a fake name both to his employers at the warehouse and the landlord of the apartment building, but somehow, curiously, he now found himself wanting to reclaim a small part of his actual identity.

He had been mentally referring to himself as Bucky for months now, since leaving Hydra after the helicarriers, but he knew that Steve was looking for a Bucky and he had to stay hidden. It wouldn't be safe to give her that name.

"... James," he said eventually, his voice hesitant and rusty from disuse. "My name is James."

The girl, Georgiana, smiled at him once more with her hand wrapped around her own doorknob. "Nice to meet you, James."

* * *

 **Still working on Broken Things, but have hit a wee bit of writer's block ... With Christmas just around the corner this lighter, sweeter plot bunny was just begging to be written.**

 **Got several chapters planned out, intending this to be a much shorter story than some of my other works.**

 **Leave a review, my darlings!**


	2. Scotch shortbread

Three flights up and already out of breath Georgiana, paused on the landing halfway up the building for a break, balancing the heavy box that she was carrying on the step above her.

After the momentous screw up with student accommodation, she had been forced to take a cheap flat towards the outskirts of Bucharest that she hadn't even seen before moving in to. It had been advertised as a large, furnished studio flat, but that was being overly generous to say the least - a serviceable single mattress on a rickety bed frame, a fairly decent wooden table with mismatched chairs and a mouldy sofa had been all that greeted her when she had first entered her new flat the afternoon before.

Knowing that she had to make the best of it, Georgiana had got back into the Fiat Punto that she had driven over from England the previous day and headed to the nearest Ikea.

What she had failed to take into consideration, however, was the lack of a working lift in her new building - a lesson that she really _should_ have learned yesterday when she had been unpacking her cases and boxes from the car.

Taking a deep breath, she heaved the box once more to half push, half carry it up the stairs, quietly cursing the burst pipe that had condemned the student house she was supposed to be in as she did so.

She managed to make it up two more flights of stairs when she heard footsteps behind her.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw James, her new neighbour, hesitating on the landing beneath her, watching her struggling with the box with distinctly narrowed eyes. He was wearing a heavy jacket over several layers, gloves and had a tattered baseball cap pulled down low over his face.

"Sorry, I'll let you go by," Georgiana said slightly breathlessly, awkwardly shifting to the side of the stairs as much as she could to allow him room.

He nodded and silently moved past her on the stairs, only to then pause a few steps above her, slowly turn back and look at her thoughtfully.

"Would you like some help?" he asked after a long moment, a note of hesitation clearly evident in his rasping voice, like he wasn't sure about what he was offering.

Georgiana brightened, feeling a rush of gratitude. "If you wouldn't mind, then that would be _great_ ," she said ardently as James descended the stairs towards her once more. "If you could grab that end -"

She cut herself off as he simply picked up the whole box that she had been struggling with, hefting it with impressive ease.

"Huh, wow," she said, blinking at him as he headed on up the stairs without a word - really she shouldn't be surprised, he had a broad shouldered frame beneath all the layers, with clearly muscled arms to match, so him being strong should really be expected.

"I'll get the door for you," she said, darting around him as they reached the top floor, unlocking it and holding it open for him.

James carried the large box into her flat and put it down in the middle of the floor, his eyes darting around and taking in the boxes that had yet to be unpacked.

"Thank you, that was really kind of you," Georgiana said with a smile at him, tucking a lock of auburn hair behind her ear and hoping that he wasn't silently judging her for the mess of unpacking. "I didn't think through the fact that this building doesn't have a lift when I went furniture shopping."

"Did you have anything else to bring in?" James asked without acknowledging her comment, his voice low and quiet.

Georgiana sheepishly rubbed the back of her head, wondering if she should just lie and say no or if it would be too much of an imposition for her to ask him to help with more boxes. "There is, umm, one or two more things still in the car, but it's fine, I can -"

James wordlessly turned and headed towards the door, jerking his head to indicate that she should follow.

She cut herself off and grinned at him, inordinately grateful for his help as she trailed back down the stairs after him.

For the next several minutes they systematically unloaded her car, with James effortlessly carrying the larger boxes himself without a hint of complaint while she took the smaller ones. He didn't seem to be one for conversation, but she did find out from a few questions as they descended the stairs that he had only recently moved to Bucharest himself and that he worked down in the industrial area.

Georgiana headed down the stairs one last time to get the final small box and lock up her car. She half expected to find James gone, vanishing into his own flat now that the work was done, but to her surprise she found him still in her flat, sat on the floor and scrutinising a set of assembly instructions that he had removed from one of the boxes with a deep frown.

She opened her mouth to tell him that helping her assemble the furniture wasn't necessary, but then thought that she would actually appreciate the assistance since there was a lot to do and he seemed inclined to stay and help. "Would you like a drink?" she asked instead, putting the last Ikea box down on the floor.

James glanced up at her, looking slightly thrown by the offer.

"I have tea, coffee, juice …" she continued, pleased that she had something to offer him since she had gone out to do a food shop when she arrived the previous day.

There was a brief pause. "Coffee," he said eventually, still looking at her with a slightly suspicious air.

Georgiana pottered about the kitchen, filling the kettle with water. "How do you take it?" she asked as she set it to boil.

He frowned at her, looking confused at the question. "Just … coffee," he said, speaking slowly and hesitantly, like he expected a trap somewhere in her offer.

"So black?" she checked, getting a second mug from her box of kitchen supplies that was only half unpacked on the island.

James nodded, still watching her warily.

She hummed quietly to herself as she made the drinks, coffee for him and tea for her. She was aware of James continuing to watch her out of the corner of his eye, like he was worried she might not make his coffee right, something which amused her since it was hard to get black coffee _wrong_. Finished, she carried the floral mug over to him. "Here," she said, offering it to him handle first with a smile.

He took it and nodded at her in acknowledgement before returning to the instruction manual he was reading.

Clearly he was a man of few words, but he was going out of his way to help her so she wasn't about to comment. "I'll start over here," she said, nodding towards a box of shelves that she had bought.

James didn't reply and she got the distinct impression that he wouldn't appreciate more questions from her, so instead she set her phone to softly play music to cover the surprisingly comfortable silence that settled between them as they worked.

* * *

Two days later Bucky was returning late from an evening shift down at the industrial area, only to freeze at the top of the stairs of his apartment building.

There was a plastic box outside his door, a folded piece of paper atop of it.

He stared at it for several long minutes, trying to determine if it was an IED of some kind. Eventually, he stepped carefully forward; he nudged the box with his foot, prepared to leap back if he needed to. Nothing happened, and so he slowly reached down to retrieve the piece of paper, which was written in a loopy, cursive hand.

 _Thanks for your help with the furniture, Georgiana_.

Having no reason to doubt that the box wasn't from his new neighbour (after all, the residents had a key fob to enter the building, this extra security being another reason he had settled here) he cautiously reached down to pick it up, examining it carefully. It was heavy and rattled slightly when he shook it; clearly there were multiple objects inside.

He cast a quizzical look at his neighbour's door; it was late and there were no lights visible, so she was likely asleep. He didn't completely understand this offering and was not even completely sure that it was for him - he wasn't named on the note as the recipient, after all, yet he had helped her with her furniture and the mysterious box had been left outside his door.

He opened the plastic Tupperware box. Inside he found a batch of light gold, sugar coated shortbread biscuits, most likely homemade since the shapes were ever so slightly irregular.

The sweet smell of baking filled his nose and a memory suddenly struck him, making him blink and jerk his head with the sudden clarity.

" _James, take these over the road to Mrs Thompson's house for me," his mother said just as he was about to go out, a floral apron tied around her waist and a tin in her hands._

" _But Mom, Steve and I were going to the pictures," he complained, not wanting to go over to stuffy old Thompson's house when his friend was waiting._

" _You can drop this off on the way," his mother insisted. "She helped alter Rebecca's dress and saying thank you is the proper thing to do. Manners are important, young man."_

Bucky exhaled a long, shaking breath, staring down at the box of biscuits in his hand - he remembered that his mother used to bake Scotch shortbread, baked in a round rather than as biscuits, but the smell was the same.

That was one of the earliest memories he had reclaimed since escaping Hydra; he'd been a teenager, still in high school. Money had been tight and the old lady over the road had altered one of Rebecca's old dresses for a dance since they hadn't been able to afford a new one.

He'd known that he had a sister, but hadn't been able to remember her name until now.

Rebecca, his sister's name was _Rebecca_.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed by what he had remembered, he let himself in to his apartment, determined to retrieve his notebook and write down the new memories that had surfaced.

For the next several minutes he sat on his small, cramped sofa, hunched over the notebook and scribbling furiously.

Finished, he sat back against the sofa cushions and sighed.

Almost automatically, he turned to the front of the notebook, where the elastic was bookmarking a page. A painted picture of Captain America - Steve - stared up at him, stolen from the Smithsonian museum gift shop back in DC.

A part of him wanted to contact Steve, his _friend_ , and have him help sort out his memories and broken mind. The other part of him wanted to just _stay away_ from all of it, Steve, SHIELD and Hydra, to just eke out an existence here in this small corner of the city, quietly atoning for his crimes as best he could with honest, manual labour down in the industrial area.

His gaze shifted to the plastic box of biscuits sitting innocently beside him, the lid still askew from where he had opened it.

He'd never had sweet things when he had been living as the Soldier, living off hardly solid food, thin gruel and a cocktail of vitamins, supplements and mood suppressant drugs. Since taking off on his own after the events in DC he had never bothered to buy sweet things for himself either, since they were a nonessential item.

Curious, he picked up one of the biscuits that his neighbour had made him and turned it over in his fingers, the sugar dusting the leather of his gloves.

There was a chance that his neighbour had poisoned them, of course, but somehow he was inclined to believe not.

The Soldier's programming was telling him that eating food left by a possible enemy was foolish, but Bucky was trying to move away from his programming, to live life as a normal man rather than a machine.

A normal man would accept and eat biscuits from a neighbour.

 _What the hell_ , he thought to himself, feeling almost rebellious as he took a small bite of the biscuit.

It was sweet and buttery, crumbling in his mouth and coating his tongue with the rich flavour. It was sweeter than anything he remembered having, almost too sweet after his very bland diet, and somehow felt highly indulgent.

He could only manage one biscuit before the sweetness became too much for him, and so he put the lid back on the plastic box to save the rest of them for another time, quietly pleased with the offering.

It had been many years since he had tasted them, but he suspected that the biscuits his neighbour had made might just be better than his mother's.

It was an almost disloyal thought and he imagined that his mother would have been chagrined to hear such a thing, a notion that he found vaguely amusing.

The hour was late and so he lay down on the bare mattress, hoping that he wouldn't have nightmares. He wrapped himself in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, the memory of his mother that he had reclaimed playing through his mind and the taste of sugar still lingering on his tongue.

* * *

Several days had passed since Georgiana had moved into her new flat in Bucharest and her course at the university had started, keeping her busy. She had met her coursemates and even befriended a few, joining them for drinks and study groups.

She'd settled as best she could into the new flat. The flat already looked much brighter and more welcoming than it had been, with the landlord allowing her to put a fresh coat of paint on the walls and the new furniture that she had bought fully assembled. It would still require a few more finishing touches, but it was starting to feel like home.

She hadn't seen anything of James, her neighbour, since he had helped her with her furniture, but the box of biscuits that she had left outside her door had vanished and so she assumed that he must have got them. They had been simple shortbread since she hadn't known what he had liked, but nevertheless she hoped that he enjoyed her small sign of gratitude.

Evening had fallen and Georgiana was doing some reading for her course, the remains of her dinner on the table in front of her, when a quiet knock came at the door.

Wondering who would be knocking rather than ringing the buzzer on the main door below, she headed to the door and stood on her tiptoes to look out of the peephole.

James stood in the corridor, the plastic box that she had put the biscuits in held in his hands.

She opened the door with a smile, noticing that he looked deeply hesitant about knocking on her door. "Hey there," she said cheerfully, happy to see him again.

"Hello," he said softly, then simply thrust the box out towards her without warning. She noticed that he was still wearing his gloves, though the baseball cap he had been sporting last time was missing, leaving his long, jaggedly cut brown hair just touching his collar. "Thank you," he added belatedly as she took the plastic Tupperware from him, seemingly remembering this nicety at the last moment.

"You're very welcome, it was the least I could do," she said, gratified the feel that it was empty. "Did you like them?"

James blinked at her, apparently surprised by the question. "Yes," he replied, reinforcing her impression of him being a man of few words.

"I'm glad to hear it," she said gently - he didn't seem all that comfortable with conversation at all, and so she decided not to ask him anything else.

He nodded once at her, clearly keen to be finished with the social exchange and already half turned to head back to his own flat. "Goodnight."

"Night, James," she called after him, still smiling as she closed the door once more.

Leaning back against her door, she opened the plastic box to look inside - her smile turned to a full grin when she saw that it was indeed completely empty and that he had even washed it up as well.

Her neighbour may not have been the most verbose or social of people, but he clearly was a good sort.

* * *

 **Leave a review, my darlings! I always love to know what you think of a chapter or what you expect / hope to see next.**

 **I hope that you all had a very happy Christmas!**

 **Big thank you to auntkia for betaing :D**


	3. Nightmares

Bucky was gradually growing used to having a new neighbour.

Old Mr Paraschiv was practically deaf and barely made a sound; however, he had an adjoining wall with Georgiana and she was much more lively than their other neighbour. The sounds of footsteps, conversations, music and television were muffled, though still distinctly audible through the thin walls.

At first, the noises had irritated him, grating on his nerves as he tensed with every sound, but he had gradually gotten used to them and had even started to find them soothing at times. They were something different to focus on when the rest of his mind was overwhelming him. He'd not had much opportunity to listen to modern music and had found that there were one or two songs that he actually liked.

Bucky also wondered if she realised that he could hear her _singing_ in the shower - probably not, he'd decided, knowing that no one who sung that badly would sing that loud if they knew that they could be overheard.

Georgiana herself didn't seem that bad either, despite her less than stellar singing ability. He had only seen her once since returning her Tupperware to her after finishing her biscuits, passing her on the stairs on his way to work; she had been on the phone and so hadn't stopped to speak to him, something that he didn't mind at all since she had been inclined to ask him questions when they had been unloading her furniture, but had given him a smile and a small wave instead, the phone held to her ear.

She also seemed to be a prolific baker and cook - not a day went by without downright heavenly smells drifting down the corridor from her apartment.

He'd never had much cause to cook for himself and now, being away from Hydra, was forced to fend for himself for the first time. He mostly got on fine, practically living off protein bars or oatmeal for breakfast and pasta for dinner, but smelling Georgiana's cooking made him suspect that he was missing out when it came to food.

Sometimes the smells were enough to make him scowl down at his own bland, badly cooked food, his stomach growling in hunger as the scents taunted him.

At this point he was 87% sure that his new neighbour wasn't a Hydra or SHIELD agent, but he was still determined to keep an eye on her - just in case.

* * *

Georgiana sat up suddenly in bed, jerked out of a deep sleep by the sound of screaming. Her heart hammering with fear, she fumbled to turn on her lamp, blinking against the bright light.

The screaming was coming intermittently from next door, through the wall that adjoined James' apartment. Hesitantly, she got out of bed and put her ear to the wall - she could hear great, gasping breaths and moans, only to then flinch as another scream, practically a roar of pain, echoed through the wall.

It sounded like he was being _tortured_.

She dashed to her door, pausing only to grab her dressing gown, keys and phone as she did so. After several tries she managed to unlock her door and then tumbled out into the corridor. Fumbling with the arms of her short dressing gown, she tripped her way to his door and then froze, hesitating with her hand raised to knock.

Most likely he was having a nightmare - a _really_ intense one, by the sounds of it - but what if he _wasn't_? What if he was actually being attacked?

She could be putting herself in danger, it might be better for her to call the police.

Another scream tore through the air, making her decision for her, and she hammered loudly on his door.

The scream turned to silence, abruptly cut off.

She knocked again, quieter this time, to let him know where the sound had come from. "James, are you okay?" she called through the door.

A long silence was her only reply, though she thought that she heard movement in the flat.

"Seriously James, are you hurt?" she called again after nearly a whole minute had passed without a response, wringing her hands in concern since he wasn't replying. "Do I need to call the police or someone?"

"No, no police," his low, rasping voice came from the other side of the door, sounding like he was trying to catch his breath.

There was another pause, then the door cracked open two inches.

She could only see part of his face, but immediately noticed that he was covered in sweat, with strands of his long, jaggedly cut hair sticking to his skin. His breaths were coming sharply, like he had just run a marathon. The long-sleeved shirt that he was wearing with boxer shorts was uncrumpled and not sweaty at all, making her suspect that he had just put it on to open the door. She could see that the hand holding the door open was trembling, his knuckles white as they gripped the wood of the door. His face was pale and ashen, his grey-blue eyes surrounded by deep shadows that looked like bruises and filled with an absolutely devastating amount of pain and fear.

"James?" she whispered fearfully, staring up at him as she wrapped her dressing gown tightly around herself.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he said, his voice mechanical and emotionless, eyes distant, looking ready to close the door any second.

"I don't care about that, are _you_ alright?" she asked, still staring up at him through the crack in the door.

There was a brief pause, then James hesitantly opened his mouth, his lips moving for a moment before he spoke. "I have nightmares sometimes," he said eventually, the simplicity of his words belaying the amount of pain he must have been feeling to make such terrible sounds.

"It sounded bad," she said quietly, wondering if he would tell her what he had been dreaming about and half dreading what she might hear if he did. "Are you sure that you're alright?"

"I'm fine," he said shortly, his breathing evening out already.

"Okay …" she said, still holding her dressing gown tightly around her; it was cold out in the corridor and her bare feet were already beginning to feel like ice, having dashed out without slippers or socks. "Do you … um, need anything?"

"No," he said hoarsely, then seemed to remember his manners. "Thank you."

"Right," Georgiana said, getting the impression that he wanted nothing more than to just close the door in her face. She gestured back to her own flat. "I'll just, uh … Goodnight."

"Goodnight," James said in reply, his voice quiet and rasping in the darkness of the corridor.

She turned back to her own door and let herself in, acutely aware that James was stood watching her intently through his own cracked open door until she was safely back in her flat.

She locked the door firmly behind her and took a deep breath, leaning against it.

The clock on her phone said that it was just past three in the morning, but she knew that she wouldn't go back to sleep easily tonight with how rattled she was by what had just happened.

Time for some hot chocolate.

* * *

 **For those who are following Broken Things, my other Bucky/OC story, I've just finished a chapter and sent it to my lovely beta, auntkia, so hopefully that wil be posted in a few days.**

 **In the meantime, how about you leave a review on this little story of mine?**

 **Hope you all have a lovely New Year!**


	4. The chill of October

Days passed and the rains of September faded away to the chill of October. Georgiana's course at the university was keeping her busy and she had made a small circle of friends among her classmates that she often spent time with. She missed her family and friends back home, speaking to them regularly on the phone, but was starting to settle in Bucharest.

She had barely seen James since the night he had woken her up screaming. The few times she had passed him on the stairs he had simply nodded at her in acknowledgement when she smiled or tried to greet him and had then purposefully avoided eye contact.

He didn't seem all that interested in being friends, so until he indicated otherwise she wouldn't make things awkward by pressing her friendship upon him.

She still heard odd noises from his flat, even the occasional shout or groan at night, but had determined that his nightmares were not her business if he didn't want to speak to her about them - providing that he was not screaming the whole building down as he had been a few weeks ago, she would leave him to it.

One Saturday morning Georgiana jogged down the stairs of the building in her work out clothes, leggings and a loose top that showed flashes of her sports bra underneath, intending to head to the gym a few streets away.

She was surprised to find James out the front of the building, crouched beside his motorcycle and scowling deeply at it, oil streaking his gloved hands.

Georgiana had been about to walk right by him with their usual, customary nod, but something about his expression made her pause. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, lingering a little behind him.

James glanced over his shoulder at her, his cap pulled down low over his eyes. "It's blown a gasket," he said simply, the frustration evident in his voice. "I'm supposed to be at work."

"I can drive you," Georgiana offered instantly, thinking nothing of it.

He stared at her in response with a deep crease of suspicion between his brows, like he was trying to work out her motive for making such an offer.

She gestured towards her crappy Fiat Punto. "Come on, hop in," she said, smiling at him encouragingly.

"You don't mind?" he checked as he got to his feet, still looking slightly suspicious at her offer but also grateful that he wouldn't be late for work.

"Not a bit, it's the least I can do after you helped me with all that furniture," she said as they made their way towards the car.

With his long strides, James beat her to it and went to open the right side door.

"Oh, that's the driver's side," Georgiana said quickly, since it was an English car and they drove on the right here in Romania.

James gave her a curious look from beneath the rim of his cap. "I know," he said simply, still holding the door open - she realised belatedly that he had opened it for _her_.

"Well, thank you, kind sir," she said teasingly to him, pretending to bob a curtsey as she slipped into the car and wondering if she'd ever had a man open a car door for her before.

She fastened her seatbelt as he walked around the car and let himself into the passenger side, having to adjust the seat for his long legs. The car started with a faint splutter and whine, but nevertheless revved to life.

"Where to?" she asked James, knowing that he worked in the industrial area but not really knowing how to get there.

"I'll direct you," he said quietly, looking slightly uncomfortable with his large frame folded into her small car.

She turned the radio on low for background noise as she reversed out of her parking space, suspecting that conversation would not be very high on the cards.

James surprised her by asking where she had been going, nodding to himself when she told him about the gym that she went to and commenting that he hoped that he wouldn't make her late by driving him.

The conversation then lapsed and he looked like he was trying hard to think of something to say, social niceties clearly not coming easily to him. Taking pity on him, Georgiana asked him about the work that he did down in the industrial area and he replied with a few sentences telling her about unloading and loading trucks and working with some rather heavy machinery. It didn't sound like he particularly enjoyed his work, but it was the most he had spoken to her since they had met.

Before long they were pulling into the industrial area, which had numerous warehouses, factories and trucks around. James directed her to one particular building that had large, hanger type doors and she parked up in front of it.

"Thank you," he said softly, unclipping his seatbelt.

"No worries," Georgiana replied, one hand braced on the steering wheel as she watched him, the car idling outside the building. "What time would you like to be picked up?"

James shot her another surprised look, the suspicion that she was becoming used to from him mixed in as well and causing his brow to furrow.

She grinned at him, wondering if she could appease the suspicion in his gaze somewhat. "It's several miles back to the flat, I'm not going to make you walk that."

There was a brief silence as he continued to stare at her, like he was still trying to determine why she was offering this. "I finish at ten," he said eventually, evidently working a long shift today.

Georgiana nodded at him. "I'll see you at ten then," she said with another smile, not minding picking him up since she didn't have plans tonight.

James hesitated, then nodded and got out of the car, closing the door carefully behind him. She gave him a wave as she drove off, aware of him watching her go with a vaguely perplexed expression on his face, like she was a problem that he just couldn't figure out.

* * *

Later that evening, Georgiana pulled up in front of the same warehouse that she had dropped James off at that morning. Night had long since fallen and the industrial area was near deserted, lit only by a few lights on the side of buildings. The large, hanger type doors were slightly open, but James was nowhere to be seen.

Getting out of the car, Georgiana pulled her cardigan around her for warmth against the chilly night air, wishing that she had brought her coat - she hadn't thought that she would need it, assuming that she would be driving here and then straight back.

"James?" she called through the open door, hoping that he was close by. The warehouse seemed to be deserted, lit only by a few orange lights. Shadows loomed in the corners, the large machinery casting odd shapes in the darkness.

She swallowed hard against the trepidation that was building inside her and took a few steps into the dark building. "James?" she called out once more, slightly louder than before.

A light came on in a side room and she heard footsteps - more than one person.

Two large, burly men stepped into the warehouse, looking at her curiously. One was older, with greying hair and a protruding beer belly, whereas the other was younger and had tattoos covering both his arms.

Georgiana took an instinctive step back towards the doors and her car.

"Ce vrei?" the older man asked, his eyes roving over her - she knew enough Romanian to know that he was asking what she wanted.

"Salut," she said hesitantly, not sure her Romanian would be good enough for this conversation and hoping that James would appear soon. "Oh, how do you say … Umm … Îl caut pe James?"

"Engleză?" the younger man asked, tilting his head at her.

"Engleză, da," she said hopefully, wondering if he spoke English, which would make this whole conversation easier.

"Who you look for?" he asked in heavily accented English, much to her relief.

"James," she replied, not knowing his last name.

The two men looked at each other, evidently confused. "Tall, quiet, long hair, bit of scruff …" she continued, gesturing to her face to indicate a beard as she described him.

"Da, da, you mean the new guy," the younger man said with sudden comprehension, then gestured towards another door in the warehouse. "He's finishing. This way - come, come."

Georgiana hesitated; every fibre of her being was telling her that following two strangers, men who were clearly bigger and stronger than her, deeper into a dark and deserted warehouse was not a good idea, but this was where James worked and he said he would meet her here.

The younger man was still holding the door for her, an expectant smile on his face - she couldn't detect any hint of malice or anything sinister in his bearing, and so she squared her shoulders and followed him and the other man through the door, trying to ignore the pounding in her heart.

They walked down several dark corridors until they came to a large, bright room towards the back of the warehouse. The rear end of a large lorry had been reversed back into the loading dock and James was busy piling huge boxes, moving them with ease. He apparently heard them coming since his head jerked up, alert and watchful.

"Hei, James, nu?" the younger guy called out to him as they approached. "Acest lucru frumos spune că este cu tine," he added, hiking his thumb over his shoulder at her; Georgiana blinked, she was able to recognise enough of the words to tell that she had just been called pretty.

"Georgiana," James said, making her blink once more; it was the first time he'd used her name and she had wondered once or twice if he even remembered it. He stepped down off the high loading dock with easy grace and approached her, his gaze flicking over her and seemingly taking in the way she was holding her cardigan tightly around her as if for protection.

His eyes then moved to the two Romanian men that were flanking her. "Were they bothering you?" he asked her quietly, his brow creased in concern rather than suspicion this time as he returned his gaze to her.

"What? No, not at all," she replied, hiding the fact that she had indeed been more than a little unnerved by the two men and the dark, nearly empty building. She mustered a somewhat forced smile, wanting to just leave at this point. "Are you nearly ready?"

James looked at her for a moment, then nodded once.

He moved to the side of the room and picked up his jacket and cap, pulling his cap on his head and slinging the jacket over one arm. He then punched out for the evening before jerking his head towards the door, indicating that they should go.

Georgiana turned her slightly forced smile to the two men. "Nice to meet you guys, thank for your help," she said politely, falling into step beside James.

"You too, iubi," the young, tattooed guy called after her with a smile, one that widened to a full grin when James shot him a dark look at the pet name.

She walked alongside James through the long, dark corridors of the warehouse, feeling far less apprehensive next to him than she had with the two Romanian men. Nevertheless, she still jumped when James dropped his unworn jacket around her shoulders without a word.

"Thanks," she said with no small amount of surprise, pulling her arms into the far too long sleeves and holding it around her. The jacket smelt of sweat and motor oil, not the most pleasant of smells, but kept out the chilly October air.

"You looked cold," he said by way of explanation, his eyes forward.

"Autumn is colder here," she replied, making small talk.

There was a brief silence as they left through the large, hanger doors. James opened the driver's side of the car door for her once more, his eyes darting about the near-empty industrial area and narrowing on three men having a cigarette outside one of the other buildings.

"I shouldn't have asked you to pick me up," he said softly as he got into the passenger seat, almost to himself.

"You may recall that I insisted," Georgiana pointed out as she turned the key in the ignition.

"Most of the guys here are harmless, but there are a few … _shady_ characters about," James said as they drove past the men, who were watching the car curiously. He turned to face her, still wearing his cap even though it was dark in the car. "Next time, if there is a next time, promise you'll wait for me in the car."

"James, I don't think -"

"Promise me," he interrupted, surprising her slightly.

She glanced at him as she drove, finding him watching her intently, the concern obvious in the creases of his brow.

"Alright, I promise," she said softly, recognising that this was important to him and finding it easier to agree.

They were largely silent as they drove back to their building, with Georgiana parking the car next to James' broken motorcycle. James walked around to her side of the car, opening the door for her once more before she had even taken off her seatbelt. She smiled her thanks at him and locked the car, following him towards the building.

The silence continued as they climbed the stairs, the lift still being out of order.

They reached their landing on the top floor and James broke the silence. "Thank you for today," he said quietly, looking at her as he lingered by his door. "I do appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she replied, smiling at his thanks. She shrugged his jacket down her arms and folded it in half before handing it to him, her fingers brushing his gloved hand. "Thanks for the loan of the jacket."

He nodded once at her, his key already in his hand ready to let himself in. "Goodnight then," he said simply, turning to his door.

"Night," she replied, moving down the corridor to her own door. She paused in front of it, thinking hard, then turned back to look at him. He seemed like a good sort of person, quiet and thoughtful, and she wanted to know him better.

"James?" she called softly, not wanting to wake anyone else in the building by speaking too loudly.

He looked up at her curiously, his door already unlocked.

"This may come across as a bit forward, but … well, I don't know many people here yet," she said with a small shrug, lingering with her hand on her doorknob. "I would really like it if we could be friends."

"... Friends?" he repeated, staring at her with that same look as before - the kind where she thought that he was trying to figure out what she was about.

She gave him a small, shy smile and nodded, hoping that he wasn't about to shut her out again.

He seemed to be thinking hard, like this was quite a momentous decision for him. He too had his gloved hand wrapped around the doorknob, as if he was contemplating fleeing into his flat at the first opportunity.

Eventually, he nodded slowly and with great gravitas. "Alright," he said cautiously, like he was still suspecting a trap or a trick from her.

She grinned happily at him, which seemed to make him relax a little. "Great," she said, her smile lingering. "Sleep well, then,"

"Goodnight, Georgiana," he said, still looking a bit bewildered.

"Night James," she replied, not wanting to keep him any longer since she suspected that he had used up his quota of social interaction for the day. With another small smile, she headed into her flat and closed the door behind her, hearing the soft snick of his own door a few seconds later.

She leant back against her door and made a quiet, satisfied noise - she had a new friend.

* * *

"You've been holding out on us," a young, tattooed man who Bucky suspected was called Andrei said to him in Romanian on their next shift at the warehouse.

He gave the man an irritated look, busying himself with hauling boxes - he had to be constantly aware of what normal men could and couldn't lift, making sure he blended in with them rather than inadvertently showing his superior strength. "Don't know what you mean," he replied in fluent Romanian.

"That pretty little thing that picked you up the other day," Andrei said with a waggle of his eyebrows; they'd never really spoken before, with Bucky very much keeping to himself as much as possible, but now the young man apparently felt that Georgiana had given him a conversation opening.

There was a brief pause as Bucky loaded the crate that he had been carrying. "My neighbour," he said succinctly, hoping that would put an end to the unwelcome conversation.

"Not your girl then?" Andrei wanted to know, the words _your girl_ causing a memory to flash to the forefront of his mind.

" _Hey Sarge, are we going dancing?" a pretty brunette called out to him_

 _He turned to face her. "Yes we are!" he replied, spreading his arms slightly and grinning at his date._

There was another pause as he grappled with the new memory in his mind, trying to place it in the timeline he knew of his life before Hydra; she'd called him Sarge and he'd been wearing his uniform, but it had been in a city rather than on the Western Front. New York, at the Stark Expo. Steve had tried to enlist again, back when he was smaller.

" _This isn't a back alley, Steve, it's a war!" he snapped to his friend, who was determined to try his luck once more._

That had been the last time he'd seen him before Azzano, before Zola and his damned injections and serums.

"Hey James?" Andrei said when he didn't reply, making him jerk his head to look at him, abruptly pulled from the memories that were turning darker - being strapped down to a table, saying his serial number over and over again just to try and stay sane through the agony. "So is she your girl or not?"

"Not," he replied, hefting another crate and silently grateful for the distraction.

Another pause, then Andrei spoke again, buzzing around him like a fly to be swatted. "Think she'd say yes if I asked her out?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows once more.

Bucky scowled deeply at him, causing Luca (the other man who had been present in the warehouse when Georgiana had come to pick him up) to laugh. "Don't think J here wants you encroaching on his territory," he said with a chortle, then shook his head slightly. "Though seeing that girl, I can't say I blame him."

"We're just neighbours," Bucky said once again, more than a little perplexed by the whole, unexpected conversation; the men had been happy to let him quietly work each shift, not really speaking to him at all, but finding out that he knew a pretty girl had them practically interrogating him.

"I don't even know my neighbour's names, but she's picking you up from work," Luca said, raising his brows. "Trust me when I say you're more than neighbours, mate," he added with faux, sage wisdom that made Andrei laugh.

He supposed that they _were_ more than neighbours, Bucky thought to himself as he continued to load the crates, not bothering to reply further to the men; apparently they were now _friends._

* * *

 **Thanks again to** _ **auntkia**_ **for betaing!**

 **Leave a review, my lovelies! :D**


	5. An invitation

It was a late Sunday morning in the middle of October and Bucky had just returned home – if you could call the apartment home, though he supposed it was the closest thing he'd had to a home in decades - from a night shift. He'd managed to repair his bike and so hadn't had to ask his neighbour, Georgiana, for her assistance again. He hadn't seen her since that evening, but couldn't help turning their conversation as they had said goodnight over and over in his mind.

She wanted to be friends.

" _I'm not going to fight you," Steve said in absolute exhaustion, dropping his shield through a hole in the burning helicarrier. "You're my_ friend _."_

 _He ran at him, brutally tackling him to the ground and raising his metal fist. "You're my_ mission _."_

He didn't have friends, no matter what Steve had said on the helicarrier.

He knew that he'd had probably had many friends in his past life, but none that he could really remember and now he didn't know how to be a friend to anyone.

The offer had completely thrown him for a few seconds when she had made it. He had stared at her in surprise and suspicion, trying to work out what she meant by making such a suggestion and thinking that there must be some kind of trick or catch to her words. The shock and confusion had been followed by what felt almost like determination; he was trying to live a normal life and normal people had friends, so he had found himself agreeing before he had thought through all of the possible ramifications and consequences.

However he didn't know what she would now expect from him and that worrying thought had kept him preoccupied for days now.

He would take his cues from her, he had eventually decided as he drove through the city streets on his bike; let her behaviour be his guide for how to be friends.

With that decision made, he was determined not to think about it again until he had to.

His clothes were grimy from work and he was down to his last clean shirt, so he changed into it and bundled up his dirty clothes in his arms to take them down to the laundry in the basement of the building.

His determination not to think about Georgiana and her offer of friendship was put to the test sooner than he had expected; he walked into the basement with his dirty clothes in his arms, only to find her sat cross legged on one of the unused machines with books scattered around her.

Georgiana glanced up when he came in, her expression brightening when she saw that it was him. "Hey," she said, sounding happy to see him. She was wearing jeans and a dark blue shirt, her auburn hair carelessly piled on the top of her head in a messy bun that had strands escaping around her face and neck.

"Hey," he replied cautiously, moving towards a machine on the other side of the room and loading his clothes inside. "How are you?" he asked awkwardly, knowing that he should make conversation with his new _friend_ but not being completely sure as to how to go about doing that.

She didn't seem to notice his awkwardness, closing her book to give him her full attention. "I'm good," she replied happily, her smile lingering on her face. "Uni is keeping me busy though, I've got two essays due," she told him, rolling her eyes good naturedly. "How about you?"

"I'm fine," he said, not really having much to tell her beyond that. He cast around for another question to ask, his eyes landing on the numerous books surrounding her. "You're studying?"

"Yeah, I'm doing a year abroad for my course, I'm writing my dissertation on Eastern European Mythology," she explained, still sat cross legged on top of the machine and looking completely relaxed in his presence. "How's work been?"

"Same as usual," he replied as he loaded coins into the machine to start it; there was a beat as he thought of something else to add. "You made an impression on Andrei," he found himself saying, much to his surprise - it seemed like the art of conversation was gradually coming back to him.

Georgiana laughed at this comment, surprising him even more that he had managed to elicit such a response. "Was he the guy with the tattoos?" she wanted to know, laughing again when he nodded in confirmation. "I confess, I did find him and the other guy a bit scary at first."

He nodded once more, more to himself than to her; he hadn't considered that she might come looking for him when she had picked him up and he had put her in a potentially dangerous position since the way some of the men at the warehouse spoke about women sometimes was distasteful to say the least.

Knowing that it was his turn to say something, he quested around once more for another question that he could ask.

"So you're from England?" he said, already knowing this to be the case; she hummed in response and so he added, "Will you tell me about it?"

It turned out that he had hit the mark with this question; Georgiana happily launched into a description of her life in England and, with a few more quiet questions from him, went on to describe the village where she lived and the university she'd gone to for her undergraduate degree.

She was talking for several minutes and Bucky was feeling proud of himself for keeping the conversation going for so long - certainly this was the longest social interaction he could ever remember having since they had hardly talked when he had helped her with her furniture.

Eventually she wound down. "Have you ever been to England?" she wanted to know.

"Years ago," he said with a small nod, knowing from his small scraps of memory that he had been based in England during the Second World War.

"Where abouts?"

"London," he replied, then frowned slightly as he thought back, the memory of being in a pub with Steve and some other military guys trickling back to him. "I remember there was a little pub near the War Rooms," he added without really thinking, only to then panic slightly, thinking that he had given away too much information about his past there.

Georgiana didn't seem to notice this slip. "Oh, you mean the museum where the Churchill War Rooms are?" she asked him, scarcely even waiting for him to nod cautiously in reply, finding himself unsurprised that the labyrinth of War Rooms had been turned into a museum in the decades since the war. "I remember going there on a school trip once, they were really interesting."

Bucky was saved from replying further by a ding from one of the tumble dryers; Georgiana hopped off her perch on the machine and went to gather the dry clothes in a plastic basket, piling them in haphazardly. She then swapped a load of wet clothes from one of the other machines into the dryer that she had just emptied, adding coins to start it.

She picked up the basket and turned to him with the washing balanced on her hip. "I'm just going to take this load up, I'll be back in a minute," she said with a smile, vanishing through the door.

While she was gone, Bucky busied himself by looking curiously through the books that she had left on top of the machine she had been sitting on. They were all academic texts on mythology and literature. She had a pack of small, sticky bits of plastic that she had apparently been using to mark certain pages in the texts; he wondered where she had bought them from, they could be useful to him for marking pages in his notebooks of memories.

Several minutes later Georgiana returned to the basement; she was struggling with carrying her empty plastic laundry basket under one arm, and a biscuit tin that had two steaming mugs balanced on top of it in the other hand.

Bucky immediately pushed himself off the machine he was leaning against and went to relieve her of her load, taking the tin and mugs from her, noticing that one of them contained tea and the other coffee.

"Thanks, nearly spilled those twice on my way down," she said, putting her basket down in front of the dryer and hopping back up onto her perch on the machine.

"Is this for me?" Bucky asked with no small amount of perplexion, staring down at the mug of black coffee in his hand that she had bought down with her.

She hummed her confirmation of this, then patted the machine next to her, indicating that he should sit down too.

He handed her the mug of tea and put the tin down in the space between them as his mind whirred; the Soldier in his mind was telling him that he hadn't watched her make it like he had before and so she could have put anything in the coffee, the perfect opportunity to poison him, but the other part of his mind – the man - was just telling him to say thank you, _shut up_ and drink.

The man in his mind won. "Thank you," he said, sitting on the machine next to her and taking a sip of the rich, black coffee.

Georgiana opened the biscuit tin, the scent of sugar and honey filling the air; she offered the tin to him first and he carefully took a biscuit in his gloved hand with a nod of thanks.

He examined the biscuit before eating it; it wasn't the same shortbread as before, rather it was a darker gold in colour and smelt of honey and oats. He took a bite, finding it to be crunchy and sweet. "Do you make these yourself?" he asked, taking another bite.

Georgiana nodded. "I love baking," she told him, picking up a biscuit of her own and unceremoniously dunking it into her tea. "I find it really relaxing and I love experimenting with recipes and flavours."

"They are very good," he said honestly; after all, her biscuits were the greatest indulgence he'd had in years.

"Thanks," she said, looking pleased with the compliment.

There was a brief silence, then Bucky became aware of Georgiana watching him with her hands wrapped around her mug for warmth and a slight smile on her face.

"What?" he asked, feeling a little self conscious at her look.

"Nothing, it's just …" He felt another flash of panic, wondering what she was going to say - _it's just you look exactly like that Winter Soldier that was on the news last year?_ "... You're not really one for talking, are you?" she finished, tilting her head at him. Her voice was kind, not containing any censure; it was an observation rather than a criticism.

"Uh, no," he agreed, feeling relieved that she hadn't said anything worse. "Conversation isn't a strong point of mine," he admitted as he awkwardly rubbed the bak of his head with a gloved hand, certain that he wasn't doing a good job of this friendship business.

"That's alright, we can always do things that don't require talking when we hang out," she said breezily.

Bucky looked at her, only to find her eyes abruptly widening and a blush staining her cheeks - he frowned, wondering what had caused such a reaction in her.

"That came out wrong," she said, sounding flustered in the extreme with her cheeks pinkening even further. "I didn't mean - Uh, I _meant_ , you know, that we could watch TV or movies and stuff," she finished quickly, busying herself with talking a large gulp of her tea, seemingly as a way to hide her glowing cheeks.

"Movies?" he repeated, memories of being at the pictures swimming to the surface of his mind.

"Yeah." She turned to him, the inexplicable blush starting to fade. "Do you like movies?"

"I … used to," he said thoughtfully, still thinking back. He had vague memories of being sat at the back of the pictures with a girl to watch Gone With the Wind, but didn't think that they had actually paid attention to much of the film. "I haven't seen one in a long time though."

"What about TV?" she wanted to know. "I can picture you as a Breaking Bad fan, or Game of Thrones.

Bucky gave her a blank look - he knew what a television was but certainly didn't own one and had never even heard of things she was talking about.

She misread his look. "You've never seen Game of Thrones?" she asked, looking at him in askance.

He shrugged, wondering what it was that he was apparently missing out on.

"What are you doing this evening?" Georgiana wanted to know.

He shrugged once more, a little bewildered at what he saw as a rather sudden change of subject and not particularly wanting to share the fact that his plan was to sit in his small, derelict apartment and look through the various notebooks containing fragments of a forgotten life that he was trying to remember.

"Come round mine, if you want," she continued, making him blink in surprise once more. "I'll make us some dinner and we can watch the first episode, see if you like it."

Bucky hesitated for just a few seconds - the food smells that constantly drifted down the corridor from Georgiana's apartment were always mouthwatering, much more appealing than then bland, often under- or over- cooked food he made for himself, and she was now offering to share her food with him.

"Alright," he agreed, and was rewarded with a huge grin from her.

* * *

 **Thanks to** _ **auntkia**_ **for betaing!**

 **Leave a review, my darlings!**


	6. Dinner with a friend

Later that evening, Bucky found himself lingering outside in the corridor between the two apartments, paused with his right hand raised to knock on Georgiana's door.

It was the first time since before Hydra that he could ever remember doing something _social_ and the whole thing just felt _odd_ , wrong, uncomfortable.

He wanted nothing more than to just turn around and walk back into his own apartment, but he was under no illusions that Georgiana wouldn't come looking for him if he did, knocking on his door with a cheery smile and innocently reminding him that they were supposed to have dinner together.

Having dinner, with a _friend_ \- it was so far from his programming that he felt almost _ill_ disobeying.

Which was precisely the reason he was doing this - after all, he didn't _want_ to be the Soldier anymore.

Steeling himself, he knocked sharply on the door before he could talk himself out of it.

"It's open!" Georgiana called back from inside.

Bucky frowned slightly and turned the knob, concerned that she didn't keep her door locked and would invite people into her apartment without checking who they were.

Stepping inside, he found her apartment to be bright and welcoming, the delicious scent of food cooking filling the air. Georgiana herself was in the small kitchen area, busy stirring something on the stove. She turned and smiled over her shoulder at him.

"Come on in," she said invitingly, since he was still lingering by the door. "Would you like something to drink?"

"... Whatever you're having," he replied after a moment's hesitation, still ever so slightly worried about the possibility of her poisoning him.

There was a pause as she went on her tiptoes to get some glasses down from the cupboard, and he added, "You shouldn't leave your door open like that, I could have been anybody."

To his surprise, she laughed. "Except that anyone else would have to be buzzed into the building and you knocked at _exactly_ seven o'clock, which is when I asked you to come," she pointed out logically as she continued to move around the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. "Don't worry, I lock it before I go to sleep," she added.

"Still," he grumbled under his breath as he made his way into her apartment and closed the door behind him, a little disturbed about her laissez faire attitude to security; he knew all too well how easy it was to break into places, not locking a door seemed to be inviting trouble.

Georgiana's studio apartment was much the same size and layout as his, except hers was in significantly better condition, more modern and far more welcoming.

Feeling awkward, he shuffled his feet and cast his eyes around for something to do.

She had freshly painted both the walls and the built in wardrobes, making the whole place look clean and bright. Her small kitchen was far cleaner and better kept than his own, with cupboards painted cream and whole, uncracked tiles, the whole area made even more cheerful by the potted herbs and colourful teapot on the counter.

Furniturewise, a small dining table with four mismatched chairs was placed near a window with a vase of simple flowers in the middle. There was a low coffee table in the middle of the room with several books and candles scattered on it, sat on a plush rug between the white wooden daybed that he had helped her assemble when she had first moved in and a unit containing even more books and a television.

Having a daybed rather than an actual bed and a sofa left her with more floor space, making her apartment seem much more spacious than his own, with his bare mattress taking up the majority of his floor space. The daybed was set up for sitting; it was covered in colourful cushions and had two drawers underneath where pillows and bedding could be stored.

The whole place was cosy and warm, making him aware of just how incongruous he must look standing in the middle of her apartment in his worn clothing.

"Here," Georgiana said breezily, floating over to him with two glasses of red wine. She was still wearing the same clothing as she had been in the laundry room, but her auburn hair was now down around her shoulders.

He took the offered glass in his gloved hand and she wiggled her own glass at him. "Clink clink?" she said, still smiling. He gently, hesitantly, clinked his glass to hers in response, making her smile widen even further before she took a sip.

"I'm just making spaghetti, nothing fancy," she told him as she moved back through to the kitchen, putting her glass down on the kitchen island. "It will be ready in a few minutes."

"I'll set the table," Bucky offered, some long forgotten manners making themselves known.

"Oh, sure," she said, sounding mildly surprised. "I had thought to eat at the coffee table while we watch something, but the table works better."

He grimaced, realising that he had shot himself in the foot with this offer and would now be expected to make conversation during dinner.

She grinned wryly at his expression, like she knew what he was thinking and they were sharing a private joke. "Don't worry, I know conversation isn't your thing, so I'll do most of the talking and will only ask minimal questions."

Bucky nodded, feeling quietly relieved at her consideration - he could handle this.

* * *

Georgiana couldn't help but surreptitiously watch James out of the corner of her eye as she served up the food. He still seemed cautious and suspicious, reminding her a little of a spooked animal, but visibly perked up when he inhaled the scent rising from his plate as she passed it to him.

He was also still wearing gloves, she noticed, but decided not to comment on it; most likely he had a thing about dirt.

James waited until she picked up her own knife and fork before following suit, seemingly watching how she twirled the spaghetti and then copying her. He took a mouthful and then made a deep noise low in his throat, making Georgiana jerk her head up to look at him once more.

"This is very good," he said simply in response to her look, getting another forkful.

"You think so?" she said, quietly pleased that he liked her cooking, especially since it was very simple fare.

There was a pause as he chewed his mouthful, showing impeccable table manners unlike some of her other male friends. "Best meal I've had in years," he said shortly.

"I don't believe that," she replied with a small laugh, assuming he was just being polite.

James seemed almost entertained, like he was thinking of a private joke - not quite smiling, but certainly not as dour as some of his previous expressions. "It's true," he said, busying himself with another forkful.

Georgiana laughed a little, but decided not to press him further.

True to her word, she led the conversation over dinner; she'd already told him a fair bit about England, so she went on to describe her family and friends. She told him about her older brother and sister, Will and Lizzy (their mother was Pride and Prejudice obsessed, hence their names) and a little about her parents as well. Moving on, she recounted some stories about her friends from home, which lead her to talking about people she had met in Bucharest and her university course.

She did ask a few, easy questions of him throughout dinner - he would answer in a slow voice, like he was carefully thinking through what he wanted to say, but she was able to discover that he was ex-military and originally from Brooklyn, New York, but hadn't been back there since joining the army.

"What about your family?" she found herself asking once they had both finished eating, wondering why he'd never gone home; her words were almost lost over the running of the tap, ready to wash the plates, but he heard her anyway.

"Dead," he replied simply, joining her in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," she said with a frown, regretting having asked.

James just shrugged, picking up the tea towel unasked to dry the dishes. "It was a long time ago," he said, keeping his eyes lowered; his voice was blank and emotionless, but the small line between his brows suggested that he was deep in thought.

The two of them worked quietly for a few minutes until the small kitchen was spotlessly clean. Georgiana topped up both of their wine glasses and waved James over to the daybed, which she had set up as a sofa ready for them to sit down.

James sat stiffly on the left hand side of the daybed, so that she was sat on his right; suspecting that he liked his personal space, Georgiana curled up against the pillows in the other corner with her legs tucked beneath her as she used the remote to navigate the television, a solid two feet of distance between them.

They were largely silent as they watched the first episode of Game of Thrones, though once again Georgiana watched James surreptitiously, wanting to see if he enjoyed the show since he hadn't seen it before. He had his head tilted ever so slightly to one side as he watched, like he was fascinated by what he was seeing. He barely blinked at the violence, but his eyes widened comically at the sex scenes.

Before long, the credits were rolling and she hit pause on the TV.

"What did you think?" she asked, shifting so that she was facing him and wrapping her arms around her legs.

James hesitated before answering. "I don't remember ever seeing anything like it," he admitted quietly, his eyes still fixed on the paused screen. "The colours and the scenery …" He turned to face her, narrowing his eyes a little. "But are all TV programs and movies that … _explicit_ nowadays?"

She laughed at both his slightly scandalised expression and his manner of speaking, since he sounded just like her grandfather. "Sorry old man, I should have warned you about the rating," she said, still chuckling and not noticing how James flinched back ever so slightly at the name she'd called him, looking alarmed. "But no, not everything is like this."

He nodded slowly and turned his attention back to the paused television. "Well, it certainly was interesting," he said musingly.

Georgiana checked her phone, finding it to still be fairly early. "Would you like to watch the next one?" she offered.

James blinked. "There's more?" he asked, sounding slightly surprised by this. She nodded and he shrugged one shoulder. "Sure," he agreed.

She clambered to her feet, stretching slightly. "I'm going to make a tea first, would you like anything?" she asked, since both of their wine glasses were empty.

"Coffee, please," he replied, also standing and collecting their glasses - he may be quiet and reserved at times, but good manners seemed to be instilled in him.

"I don't have decaf coffee so I hope regular is okay," she said as she filled the kettle.

"It's fine."

Georgiana hummed slightly. "I can't have caffeine this late, I'd be up all night," she admitted to make conversation, getting the coffee and decaffeinated tea down from the cupboard.

"I don't sleep much anyway," James said quietly, focused on washing their glasses and she bit her lip to keep herself from commenting.

His screaming nightmares were suddenly an unspoken thing between them - they may now be friends, but remembering his manner when she had woken him up by knocking on his door post-nightmare she doubted that he would appreciate her asking questions of him.

Not for the first time, she wondered what could have possibly happened to him in the past to give him such terrible nightmares. She had heard him shouting in his sleep, often in a language that she didn't recognise and suspected was Russian. He had told her that he was ex-military, maybe something had happened to him while he was serving.

James had finished washing the glasses and put them away and was now awkwardly hovering in the kitchen watching her make the drinks, so she waved him back towards the daybed.

A few minutes later she approached him with two steaming mugs held carefully by the handles and a plastic Tupperware under her arm; once again, he got to his feet to take the mugs from her. "One black coffee and …" she opened the plastic box, offering it to him, "I had a sneaking suspicion that you were an American, so I decided to make cookies."

Hesitantly, he took one in his gloved fingers and examined it for a moment before taking a small bite; he immediately made a satisfied noise. "I haven't had chocolate in years," he admitted, sounding like he was speaking to himself.

"Honestly James, have you been living under a _rock_?" Georgiana asked incredulously, busy selecting a cookie of her own and looking for the one with the most chocolate chips.

"Something like that," James replied, purposefully looking at his coffee rather than her.

She snorted and picked up the remote to set up the next episode. "Alright Mr Cryptic, keep your secrets," she said airily, tucking her feet underneath her once more.

Silence fell as they watched the next episode. Darkness had truly fallen outside and her flat was lit only by the television and the lamp on a small table beside James. He seemed marginally more relaxed, sitting less stiffly with his empty mug cradled in his hands and his gaze focused on the television.

An hour or so later the episode was finished and she was pausing the TV once more. She say up and stretched, stifling a yawn.

"I should go," James said quietly, putting his mug down and getting to his feet. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Oh wait," Georgiana said, also standing up and handing him the plastic Tupperware of cookies. "Take these with you."

"Why?" he said, looking at the box that she had unceremoniously pressed into his gloved hands.

"I enjoy baking, but I can't eat everything I make myself or I'll pop," she said with a grin, poking herself in the tummy to make her point. "As my neighbour, you get to benefit from me trying out new recipes."

He looked at her, his expression a perfect mix of suspicion and bewilderment. "Thank you" he said simply, hesitantly, like he was still suspecting a trap of some kind.

"I confess, I do have an ulterior motive though," she admitted lightly as they moved towards the front door.

James immediately halted with his hand wrapped around the doorknob, suddenly frowning deeply at her.

"Nothing too sinister," she added quickly, reading his expression. "I was wondering if you could help me with my Romanian. We could practice whenever you came around," she said, hoping he would be amenable to the idea; she had learned enough to get by, but she wanted to become properly fluent. "I would be happy to compensate you with food, biscuits and access to my TV if you want to watch things."

James stared at her for a moment with that oh-so-familiar expression of trying to figure her out before slowly nodding. "Bine," he said in Romanian.

"Bine?" she repeated, blinking at him. "Alright?"

He nodded, still staring at her.

"Great," she said happily, bouncing on her toes slightly. "Well, let me know when you want to watch the next episode."

"Ce zici de Miercuri?" James said in his quiet, rasping voice.

"Miercuiri - Wednesday?" she translated quickly.

He nodded. "I'm working nights Monday and Tuesday," he told her, switching back to English.

"Wednesday it is then," she agreed, smiling as he opened her door ready to step out into the corridor. "Night James."

The small space between their flats meant that he was already at his own door, his key in his gloved hand. "Noapte buna, Georgiana," he replied in Romanian once more.

* * *

 **Sorry for the delays in updating - January proved to be hectic!**

 **Thanks to _auntkia_ for beating!**

 **Leave a review, my lovelies :)**


	7. Personal questions

"May I ask you a personal question?" Georgiana asked James as she handed him a plate to dry up. It was nearing the end of October and James could now be found in her flat at least once a week for dinner, the days varying due to his work schedule.

James looked at her somewhat warily and she took this as permission to continue.

"You don't have to answer," she added, knowing that conversation, particularly personal questions, were not his forte.

"Go ahead," he said resignedly, putting the dried plate on the side and reaching for one of the glasses on the draining board.

"Why do you wear gloves all the time?" Georgiana wanted to know; she didn't think she had ever seen him without his gloves and had been curious for some time now as to why he wore them.

James froze, his eyes darting to her.

"I'm sorry," she said instantly, suspecting that she had crossed a line of some kind with this question. "I shouldn't have asked -"

"It's fine," he interrupted her quickly, too quickly.

There was an awkward pause as he took a deep breath, obviously thinking hard and then seemingly steeling himself for something.

Eventually, he exhaled slowly and looked at her once more.

"I have a prosthetic arm," he said simply, like he was reporting on nothing more interesting than the weather.

"What?" Georgiana said, blinking at him in surprise - of all the possible reasons why he wore gloves, she had never considered that he might be an amputee. "You do?"

He nodded, focused on drying the glass he was holding once more.

She looked between his two gloved hands, trying to work out which one was the artificial one - it must be a damn good prosthesis since she had absolutely no idea.

"Which one is it?" she asked after a moment, unable to work it out.

James gestured to his left arm with his right hand. "I lost it when I was serving in the army, so I now have a prosthetic. I wear the gloves to keep it hidden," he explained plainly, his voice low and quiet. He paused, then used his left hand to pull off his right glove. "This one's real though," he added unnecessarily, waggling his bare fingers at her.

"Huh," she said, curious beyond words to see the prosthesis for herself but doubting that he would want to show her since he said the whole reason he wore gloves was to keep it hidden. "How did you lose it, if you don't mind me asking?"

He grimaced and hesitated before replying. "I fell from a train."

Georgiana winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"Yeah," James said dryly, pulling his right glove on once more. " _Ouch_."

She smiled at his expression. It was moments like this that he displayed his humour; he wasn't one for jokes or silliness, but he occasionally made dry or witty comments in their conversations that often took her by surprise.

Still, however, she had yet to see him smile or laugh - she had quietly made it her goal to coax at least one smile at him.

More often than not, they would end up watching something on television whenever he came around. James' knowledge of TV had been practically nonexistent, something that he had shrugged off by saying that his parents hadn't owned one growing up and he hadn't really had the time to watch things while serving in the army. He good-naturedly tolerated the various cooking and baking shows she watched, but had discovered a deep fascination with nature documentaries as well as enjoying Game of Thrones; when questioned about it, he claimed that he had visited many countries but never really interacted with the nature there.

He also seemed largely oblivious to different foods and cuisine from various cultures, once more shrugging off her questions by saying that army rations weren't great and that he wasn't much of a cook himself. She had been able to see just how much he enjoyed her cooking and making different dishes for them to share had become an interesting and invigorating challenge for her, though at some point she wanted to teach him to cook for himself, suspecting that he was living off pasta after catching a glimpse of one of his grocery bags as they had crossed on the stairs one day.

Their evenings together were calm, quiet and easy - James had rapidly become a good friend of hers.

"I'm having a few people around for Halloween next week," she told him, changing the subject away from his arm as they moved to sit down. "Nothing big, just a few drinks and costumes and stuff, then maybe heading out." She smiled at him. "Would you like to join us?"

"No, thank you," he said instantly, which was not exactly surprising - he was not the most social of people, after all.

"Are you sure?" she checked, feeling curiously disappointed that he wasn't going to come, despite having fully expected it.

James gave her an almost wry look; his eyes were a curious mixture of blue and grey, almost wintery in their colour. Her neighbour dressed undeniably scruffy, with an untrimmed beard and jaggedly cut hair, but she had noticed his handsome face and chiselled jaw beneath the scruff, not to mention his muscled physique. "Parties aren't really my thing," he said plainly, his voice faintly rasping.

Georgiana shrugged, settling in the corner of the daybed in her customary spot as she picked up the remote. "Well, the offer is there."

* * *

Bucky was on edge.

For the past hour and a half, there had been half a dozen or so people traipsing up the stairs and knocking on Georgiana's door. Looking out of the peephole, he'd been able to see that most of them were wearing costumes. Music, laughter and conversation in unfamiliar voices could be heard through the thin walls.

He didn't like it. He couldn't help but feel like the building was compromised with this many strangers on his floor.

He forced himself to sit still and ignore it, closing his eyes and trying to breath through the anxiety.

After about two hours of noise, there was a jaunty knock on his door.

Warily, he got to his feet and looked out of the peephole once more.

Georgiana stood in the corridor wearing all black, distorted through the glass.

He opened the door - as always, he tilted his body so that she could not see past him into the apartment.

"Hello," he said, looking bemusedly down at her; she was wearing a little black dress with heeled shoes, had cat's ears perched on the top of her curled hair, with whiskers and a little black nose drawn on her face - the sight of her sparked some vague memories of halloween and costumes from before the War, but nothing like what she was wearing.

"Hey," she said, bouncing on her toes and grinning at him; her eyes were bright and his enhanced senses picked up on the fruity hint of alcohol on her breath. "We are all heading out shortly so I thought I'd give it another try and see if I could persuade you to come join us for a drink."

Bucky felt himself frown - much as he had found himself enjoying spending time with her, his friend, he had no desire to socialise with anyone else. "No, thank you."

Georgiana's face fell and he felt surprisingly guilty at disappointing her. "I told you before, I don't think I'm really a party person," he added, wanting to explain in some way. "Besides, I'm working tonight," he added honestly, due to leave for the night shift in an hour or so.

Her expression suddenly brightened. "Well, what about going for coffee somewhere tomorrow?" she suggested. "I found a great little place a few streets away. No doubt far better than the instant stuff that I give you," she added with a slight wink.

They had only ever socialised in her apartment, never going out anywhere else; in response to that thought, a memory rose to the forefront of his mind.

" _Put on your dancing shoes, doll!" he said, excited because he had received his first paypacket for his work in the navy yard and could take his girl out on the town._

"I'd like that," he replied simply.

"Great," Georgiana said, looking happy once more. "I'll message you and we can - oh wait, I don't have your number," she said, clearly changing what she was saying midway through her sentence and looking at him expectantly.

"I don't have a phone," he told her honestly.

Her whole face was suddenly incredulous. "You don't have a phone?"

"No."

"Oh," she said, her eyes still wide.

There was a brief pause, then she threw up her hands in exasperation. " _Honestly_ James, it's the twenty-first century! How do you not have a _phone_?"

He shrugged - both work and his landlord had been irked at that fact as well, but he hadn't seen any reason to change it due to the security risks.

Realising that was all the response she was going to get, Georgiana shook her head in exasperation. "Okay … well, how about I knock on you for about … eleven-ish?" she suggested.

"Sounds good," he agreed, finding himself looking forward to it.

"Right," she seemed to be looking for a reason to linger, but then simply smiled at him. "Night James," she said.

"Goodnight," he replied, watching her turn and head back towards her apartment, where the sounds of music and conversation were still coming loudly. As she did so, he found his eyes trailing down her back; the little black dress she was wearing hugged the curves of her body, it's hem swaying teasingly a little above her knees.

For the first time he could remember, he felt a small twitch of arousal in his groin as he looked at her retreating figure.

That was new.

* * *

Georgiana got ready for coffee with James with a curious sense of anticipation, even though she knew it wasn't a date. Nevertheless, she showered and dressed with slightly more care than usual, partly as a way to dispel the lingering effects of having been out drinking the night before.

The cafe that she had in mind was a small, boutique place that had only a few seats inside, with the majority of the seating being outside on the pavement.

She and James found seats outside. Georgiana was glad that she had wrapped up warm with her coat and scarf since November was now upon them. James was equally layered, with at least two t-shirts visible beneath his zipped up jacket, plus his usual hat and gloves.

Once they had placed their order and were sat down, Georgiana hesitantly bought something out of her pocket and hid it in her hands. "So, um, by all means refuse or tell me off if I'm out of bounds here, but, um …"

"What?" James asked, frowning suspiciously at her.

"Here," she said, handing him a mobile phone. "It's an old one of mine that I don't use anymore, but still works fine," she explained as he turned it over in his gloved fingers. "I've set it back to factory settings and put my number in there. It'll need a pay as you go sim card, but beyond that …"

He raised his gaze to look at her. "Aren't phones expensive?" he said, sounding hesitant about this.

"Yeah, but I got a new one when I renewed my contract, so it's not like I paid any extra for it. I even have a spare charger back at the flat that you can have," she told him, hoping that he wouldn't refuse it.

There was a brief pause in their conversation as the waitress came over to deliver their drinks, coffee for him and tea for her.

"Do you think you'll take it?" she asked once the waitress had gone, with James continuing to turn it over in his hands.

He sighed reluctantly and looked back down at the phone. "I really don't need a phone," he hedged, still frowning a little.

"What about for emergencies?" she pointed out, then smiled at him. "Like if your bike blows a gasket at work and you need someone to come and pick you up?"

To her delight, the corner of James' mouth twitched ever so slightly, like the ghost of a smile and he finally slipped the phone into his jeans pocket. "Very well," he said then nodded at her. "Thank you, Georgiana."

"You're very welcome," she said happily, her hands wrapped around the tea cup for warmth.

For the next half hour or so they spoke quietly while they had their drinks, with Georgiana largely telling James about some of the things that had gone on the night before or during the week at university.

Throughout their conversation James kept shooting swift looks over to the table beside them, where a group of teenage boys were sat. They were speaking in another language, so Georgiana was not paying all that much attention to them - there were times that she could feel their eyes on her though, but elected to ignore it.

All of a sudden one of the boys gestured to her said something that made his companions laugh loudly.

James turned sharply around and said something low and quick in the same language that the boys had been speaking, his whole demeanor threatening.

The boy's eyes widened and the whole group promptly scarped, leaving half drunk cups behind them.

Georgiana was staring at James as he turned to face her again, her own eyes wide as well. "That … wasn't Romanian," she said, unable to think of anything else to say.

"No," James said shortly, watching with a fierce glower as the boys disappeared around the corner. He glanced at her once they were out of sight, finding her still watching him. "Russian," he elaborated with a grunt.

There was a long pause, then Georgiana spoke once more. "Is Russian the language you speak when you have a nightmare?" she asked quietly, having recognised the familiar language even though she hadn't been able to place it before.

James jerked his head, staring at her in shock.

She grimaced, her hands still wrapped around the mug. "Walls are kinda thin, James," she said by way of explanation, hoping that he wouldn't think that she had been trying to intrude on his privacy.

He swallowed and looked down at his empty mug; she could see a muscle tick in his jaw as he clenched it tightly.

"I spent many years in Russia, I now often think - and dream - in Russian …" he told her slowly, still looking down. Eventually, he raised his head to meet her gaze, his eyes both guarded and full of pain. "It ... wasn't a good time for me," he said simply, no doubt belaying the depths of what he had suffered there if his nightmares were any indication.

Georgiana nodded slowly, her face set into a sympathetic frown. "I'm not trying to pry, but I hope you know that you can talk to me about things if you want to," she told him softly.

"Not a chance in hell," James said sharply, making her jerk back slightly; he then grimaced apologetically at his tone, adding in a softer voice, by way of explanation and apology, "I don't want my nightmares in your head."

She nodded slowly; unless he chose to confide in her, there wasn't much more that she could do beyond letting him know that she was there for him.

There was a brief silence.

"So, what were those guys saying?" she asked him curiously, shifting the subject away from him.

"Nothing," James said, shaking his head and looking down at his cup once more

"Come on, I want to know!" Georgiana insisted, unable to believe that he wasn't telling her.

James sighed and met her gaze. "They were being very complimentary about you in a not very respectful way," he said, clearly determined not to give any details or a direct translation.

"And what did _you_ say?" she wanted to know, unwilling to let this go.

"I told them that speaking about a lady like that wasn't polite and that if they continued to say such things I would be happy to teach them some manners," he told her bluntly - she strongly suspected that he had said something far more threatening than that considering the reaction that the boys had had, but was willing to let it slide.

She grinned at him. "Well, be still my beating heart. You're quite the knight in shining armour," she said, playfully pretending to swoon just as the waitress came outside, looking dismayed to find that the Russian boys had essentially dined and dashed.

He rolled his eyes. "Hardly that," he protested, though didn't seem to mind her comment all that much.

Then, as if to prove what she'd just said, he proceeded to flag down the waitress who was despondently clearing the boy's table and have a brief conversation with her in Romanian. Her sad expression quickly brightened and he pulled some cash out of his pocket. Georgiana knew enough Romanian to know that he was offering to pay for the Russian boys who had run off without paying and her heart melted a teeny bit.

The waitress gave him the change and James started to get to his feet.

"You paid for us too?" Georgiana said, blinking at him in surprise - she had fully expected to split the bill, after all.

James glanced at her. "Considering how many times you've made me dinner, I think coffee is the least I can do," he said simply, and then frowned as a thought apparently occurred to him. "In fact, I probably owe you several coffees."

Georgiana got to her feet as well, smiling her thanks at her neighbour and friend. "Then I guess we'll just have to do this again sometime," she said, her heart fluttering ever so slightly.

* * *

 **Big thank you to** _ **auntkia**_ **for betaing!**

 **Leave a review, my darlings!**


	8. The middle of November

It was the middle of November and Bucky was in his apartment having just got back from an evening shift at the warehouse. He was busy boiling pasta for himself for a late dinner when a low buzzing noise caught his attention. He immediately grabbed one of the kitchen knives as he sunk into a defensive crouch, looking around for the source of the noise in his apartment.

After a moment, he realised it was coming from his jacket which was hanging on one of the hooks by the door. He turned off the stove and approached the door. Cautiously patting the jacket down, he found that the vibrating was coming from the pocket - the mobile phone that Georgiana had given him a few weeks ago.

He pulled it out and looked at the screen - it simply said _Georgiana calling_ with a red flashing light to indicate that the battery was low since he rarely remembered to charge it.

He pressed the green button and held it up to his ear.

"Georgiana?" he said questioningly, having assumed that she would be asleep in her apartment this late at night.

"James," she said shakily, sounding undeniably relieved that he had picked up - a fact that immediately worried him. "I'm sorry, were you asleep?"

"No." He stepped out into the corridor and glanced at her door. He couldn't hear her voice on the phone coming from within the apartment and there were no lights visible beneath the door, so clearly she was out somewhere. "Are you alright?"

"No," she said, then changed her answer. "Well, yes ... I - I'm not sure."

Concerned at her answer, Bucky grabbed his jacket and keys from within the apartment (he always wore his shoes inside in case he needed to make a quick getaway) and closed the door, suspecting that he would need to go and meet Georgiana somewhere to help her.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he jogged quickly down the stairs.

"I was out at a bar with some of the girls from uni and - and it's only fifteen minutes away so I decided to walk home," she said quickly, sounding nervous. "But I - I think I'm being followed."

He increased his speed, jumping over the metal bannister, down two flights and landing lightly on his feet. "Where are you?" he demanded.

Georgiana gave him a street name. Thanks to his late night wanderings around the city, he knew every street, road and alleyway in a fifteen mile radius. She was not far away.

"I'm on my way." He threw their building door open and glanced at his bike; she was only a few streets away and he wanted maneuverability if it came to a fight, so instead of driving he took off at a dead run down the street.

"No, no, you don't have to," she insisted, still sounding worried. "I just - just wanted to be talking to someone. It's a deterrent, you know?" she told him. "Someone is less likely to do something if there's a chance someone will know about it right away."

"I'm still coming." Bucky was not even out of breath from his sprint. "Are there any shops open that you can go into?" he asked, thinking she could take shelter somewhere.

"None that I've seen," she replied shakily.

"Just keep walking then," he told her firmly. "And keep talking to me."

"I will," she breathed. There was a pause, then she spoke once more, sounding remorseful. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you this late."

"Ana, it's fine," he said, still running. "This guy, is he following close or at a distance?"

There was a pause as she no doubt risked a glance over her shoulder.

"He's about twenty metres behind, but that's closer than he was before," she said, a distinct note of fear evident in her voice. "There's a cut through up ahead, maybe I could -"

"No, that's the perfect place for an attack," Bucky interrupted. He knew that those kinds of alleyways often lead to a dead end between two buildings - indeed that kind of location may well be the place that her follower was waiting for, somewhere he could overpower her and drag her off the street. "Stick to the street, it's well lit."

"Right," she said shakily.

"Keep talking to me, Ana," he ordered, knowing that he was not far away.

"I will," she breathed down the phone.

"If he tries anything before I get there, go for the nose, throat, stomach or groin," he advised, strongly suspecting that she had absolutely no self-defence training to speak of. He made a mental note to teach her something to defend herself. "Use your fists, knees, elbows, anything at your disposal."

Her voice was a whisper. "Okay."

"Do you have keys?" he added, wondering if she could improvise a weapon.

"Already between my fingers," she told him, which was the perfect place to anchor them for slashing or jabbing movements.

"Good girl," he rumbled. "I'm nearly at the street, where abouts are you?"

Georgiana told him the closed shops that she could see and he breathed a sigh of relief since she was near the end of the street where he was approaching.

"I'm right around the corner," he told her.

He made the final sprint and turned on to the street that she was on, still not even slightly out of breath.

Georgiana was about ten meters away and visibly jumped at the sight of him - only to then run and throw herself at him, burying her face into his chest and hugging him tightly.

More than a little alarmed by this - after all, it was the first time someone had touched him without the intention of causing pain in decades - Bucky slowly brought his flesh hand up to rest it carefully on her back, keeping her securely against him

Meanwhile, he caught sight of the man that had been following her and sent a fierce glower towards him over her shoulder. The man was middle aged, heavily built and wearing a rumpled suit. He was obviously inebriated and looked distinctly put out at Bucky's arrival, frowning a little before changing course and moving out of sight down a side street.

Georgiana was still in his arms and he could feel her trembling slightly, though he wasn't sure if that was from fear or cold.

It felt _odd_ having her pressed against him like this. Part of him was internally flinching away, anticipating pain of some sort, but the other part relished the human contact that had been denied to him for so long. He felt _protective_ , which was something that he was not used to.

Before long Georgiana gave a shuddering sigh and tilted her head up to look at him, staying in the circle of his arms.

"Thank you for coming," she said quietly, no longer looking quite so afraid.

"Anytime," he replied.

Her auburn hair was down around her shoulders, somehow straighter than normal, and she was wearing smokey eye make up. She wasn't properly dressed for mid-November, wearing a dark blue dress with heels and a thin jacket. Pretty, but not exactly suitable for the weather.

Bucky detangled himself from her and shrugged his jacket down his arms, wrapping it around her shoulders. Georgiana mustered a small smile for him in response.

His hands lingered on her shoulders, not wanting to sever the contact. Eventually, he slung his right arm around her shoulders, drawing her in to his side. It was an easy and natural movement, one that felt right.

"Come on, doll," he said as they started to make their way back towards their building.

There was a long silence as they walked, with Georgiana not seeming to mind his arm around her in the slightest.

"Thank you," she said softly once more, apparently feeling the need to thank him again.

"It's fine." He was glad that he had been able to help - it felt good to have done something _useful_ rather than destructive. "Next time though, promise me you'll call me from the bar. I'll come pick you up on the bike."

She frowned up at him, protesting. "I can't ask you to do that, normally it's really late."

"I don't sleep much anyways, and I'd rather know you're safe," he reminded her honestly. He looked down at her against his side, finding her to still be looking up at him. "Promise me, Ana."

She was silent for a moment, still frowning a little, then gave him a small, funny smile that he couldn't quite read. "I promise," she said softly.

There was another long pause.

"You called me Ana," she pointed out.

Bucky blinked; he had always given girls both shortened nicknames and pet names, apparently the mannerism had slipped back in without him noticing it.

He had remembered one or two of his girls from the forties over the last few weeks, often due to things that Georgiana had said and done sparking the memories in his head, and all of them had had shortened nicknames from him.

Constance had become Connie, Elizabeth was Betty and even his sister had been shortened from Rebecca to Becky most of the time, much to her annoyance, if he remembered correctly.

Then there was the pet names - doll, sweetheart, darlin' …

Perhaps parts of the man he used to be were coming back to him after all.

"Do you mind?" he asked her, his arm still protectively around her shoulders.

"No," she replied, giving him that funny, unreadable smile once more. "Most people call me Georgie for short, but _Ana_ … I like it."

They were mostly silent after that as they headed towards their building, which was only a few minutes' walk away. Bucky used his key fob to open the front door and held it open for her. They walked up the many flights of stairs, the elevator still being out of order with no sign of it being fixed in the near future.

Normally Bucky would simply say goodnight and head straight into his own apartment, but some long forgotten instinct was telling him to see Georgiana all the way into hers.

She still had his jacket around his shoulders as she unlocked her door, making no comment as he followed her inside. She kicked off her heeled shoes and allowed the jacket to slide down her arms, draping it over one of her dining table chairs as she looked around her dark apartment.

She turned on the lamp on her small table, illuminating her face; something about her expression told him that she was still not fully recovered from the fright that she'd had.

Bucky reached out and gently touched her arm. "You go get changed, I'll make you some tea," he offered, nodding his head towards her bathroom; he knew that he had made the right suggestion when a small, grateful smile lit Georgiana's face before she gathered some clothes and headed through to the bathroom.

He knew his way around her kitchen fairly well and, thanks to having watched her make them drinks dozens of times, knew what she liked at different times of the day. With that in mind, he set the kettle to boil and put a decaffeinated tea bag in what he knew to be her favourite mug.

With the kettle set for boiling, he also set up her bed for her - he knew that her daybed had drawers underneath that contained pillows and a duvet, having helped assemble it himself.

By the time Georgiana emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later he had her bed made and a cup of tea waiting, the whole apartment lit just by a single lamp on the small table beside the day bed. She smiled once more when she saw all of this.

He'd never seen her in her nightwear before and was fairly certain that tiny shorts that bared most of the thigh and a top with thin straps had not been the done thing back in the forties; he purposefully kept his eyes on her face as he handed her the mug, noticing that she had taken off her makeup, leaving her skin clear and smooth.

"Here," he said in a low voice, letting her take the mug from him handle first.

"Thanks," she said quietly, cradling the mug to warm her hands.

He shook his head, not needing her thanks.

"No, I mean it - _thank you,_ James," she added earnestly. "I know nothing happened but it could have done and that _terrifies_ me. You always hear about these things but you think it won't ever happen to you but it _could_ and -"

Seeing that she was getting herself worked up, he stopped her with the backs of his gloved fingers briefly touching her cheek, the smallest touch before he quickly lowered his hand back to his side.

Georgiana blinked at this, evidently surprised by this small caress.

"Thank you," she said once more, softly and simply.

"You're welcome," he replied, glad that he could help her. He put his gloved hands in his pockets, lest he be tempted to touch her again. "Goodnight, Ana," he added, starting to move towards the door.

Her voice stopped him. "Will you stay?"

He turned to look at her with his hand poised on the doorknob; an inexplicable blush was rising in her cheeks. "Not all night or anything, just for a little bit," she clarified, avoiding his eyes all of a sudden.

His hand slipped from the door handle. "If you want."

There was a pause, then Georgiana put her mug down on the coffee table and got into bed, shifting so that she was sat up in the middle of the daybed with the duvet covering her crossed legs before she reached for her tea once more. She then patted the space beside her, indicating that he should sit down too.

Bucky did so, sitting down in his customary spot with her to his right, closer than she normally was. They had sat down together dozens of times but somehow, with her in her nightwear and the daybed set up for sleeping, it felt more intimate.

Georgiana handed him the TV remote; he had become quite adept at navigating her channels, despite never having used a TV before he had started coming over. "You chose," she said, settling back with her tea cradled in her hands.

He easily navigated to the nature documentary that they had been watching on the world's oceans and hit play on the next episode.

Bucky had discovered a deep fascination and enjoyment for nature programs. He spoke numerous languages and had visited many countries in his role as the Soldier, but obviously had never explored the wildlife and nature there. He had vague memories of visiting a zoo in New York with Steve, but well over half of the animals he saw on these programs were ones that he hadn't even known existed.

They were both quiet as they watched, with Georgiana sipping from her mug of tea. Once she had finished it she kept the mug in her hands, her fingers wrapped around it to savour the lingering warmth.

A few minutes after that she shifted, shuffling closer to him and carefully laying her head on his flesh shoulder - he always made sure to sit down with her to his right, so that his metal arm was furthest from her.

He glanced down at her, wondering if she had fallen asleep, but saw that her eyes were open and focused on the television.

"Do you mind?" she asked quietly, not looking at him.

"... No," he replied honestly after just a moment's pause - it was as if her hugging him earlier, touching him without causing him pain, had flipped a switch in his head, making him crave contact with her.

She hummed slightly, contentedly, and was silent once more.

After perhaps half an hour, Bucky became aware of Georgiana's breathing deepening and evening out. Glancing down at her once more, he saw that her eyes were closed in slumber, her long lashes just brushing her cheeks and her empty mug drooping in her hands. She was utterly calm and relaxed, seemingly trusting him implicitly since she was willing to sleep in his presence.

He was reluctant to wake her and so remained still, letting her sleep against him.

Before long the program was finished and he had no reason to stay any longer.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he shifted his shoulder from beneath her head and lowered her gently down to the pillows.

She stirred slightly despite his best efforts. "James?" she murmured, her eyes fluttering.

"Shh," he said softly, as he drew the duvet up over her. "Go back to sleep, darlin'."

Bucky turned off the lamp on her small table, leaving the room in darkness. He picked up his jacket and made his way to the door, aware of Georgiana's eyes open and watching him leave from where she was cocooned in blankets.

He used her own key to lock the door behind him, before sliding it back under the door. He then sighed and made his way back to his own dark, empty apartment. He leaned against his door as he closed it behind him, his thoughts swirling.

He was acutely aware that he had grown closer to Georgiana than he had anticipated, certainly more than he had intended when he had agreed to be her friend.

The realisation left him feeling torn in two - part of him wanted to leave Bucharest and move on, knowing that becoming close to someone risked exposure, whereas the other part of him wanted nothing more than to simply _stay_.

* * *

 **Big thank you to auntkia for betaing!**

 **Leave a review, my darlings :)**


	9. A disreputable establishment

Bucky returned to his apartment a little before midnight after an evening shift towards the end of November, only to pause at his door with his head cocked to listen.

Despite the late hour, there were voices coming from within Georgiana's apartment, muffled by the walls but audible nevertheless.

A distinctly male voice, followed by Georgiana's tinkling laugh.

His hand automatically tightened on the doorknob as a queer feeling flooded his body - he felt hot and somehow cold at the same time, nausea swirling in his belly.

Had he been poisoned somehow?

Impossible, he hadn't eaten anything since the oatmeal he'd made himself for breakfast.

Bucky heard the man's deep laughter and realised that his reaction was emotional rather than chemical due to poisons.

Still paused with his hand on the doorknob, he frowned as he tried to identify the emotions surging within him - some he was familiar with, others foreign to him.

Frustration, disappointment, anger … _jealousy_.

Without even entering his apartment, he turned around and headed back down the stairs - the walls were thin and he had no desire to sit and listen to Georgiana entertaining a male guest this late at night.

The air outside was chilled, heavy with the cold of the approaching winter, and he zipped his jacket up as protection against the wind, pulling his cap down low over his eyes. His feet automatically started down one of his familiar paths, checking his escape routes and reinforcing his mental map of the city as he was often wont to do.

He had been thinking just the other day about whether it was time to leave Bucharest. He had stayed in one place for a few months now and so the sensible thing would be to move on.

But his small apartment had become the first place that felt even vaguely like anything resembling a home, and that was largely down to his neighbour.

Georgiana was his _friend_ , the first person to actually treat him as a human being in decades, and that had come to mean something to him.

And yet his mind had been put into turmoil at the very idea of her having a man in her apartment.

Jealousy was an unfamiliar emotion to him. When he had been the Soldier he had never owned anything for himself - weapons and gear had been provided to him and taken away at the end of each mission, and he himself had been little more than an object, a tool, a weapon to be pointed and fired.

And now he had something of his own - his friendship with Georgiana - that he wanted to protect.

He'd had the realisation that he was growing closer to Georgiana than he had expected, was coming to crave her company, her conversation and the occasional gentle, pain free touches she gave him, but he was fully aware that he had no kind of claim on her or her time.

And Georgiana was far too sweet, kind and pretty a dame to remain unattached for much longer. In fact, now that he thought about it, he found himself surprised that no one had snatched her up yet.

Bucky knew, in an abstract sort of way, that he had been quite the ladies' man back in the forties, but he didn't know if he even was capable of that kind of affection or interaction any more - or even if he wanted it, for that matter.

And yet he was undeniably jealous of the man currently in her apartment - so much so that he was having to suppress violent impulses from the dark, cold corner of his mind that was occupied by his programming from Hydra.

But the man was not his mission and he had no reason to harm him; Bucky was no longer the Soldier, he was trying to be _normal_.

Hours later the cold drove him back to the apartment building, just as the eastern sky was lightening from black to dark blue and frost was forming on the cars. It was the early hours of the morning and he had been walking for several hours.

Wearily, he climbed the stairs of the quiet building and let himself into his dark, empty apartment, only to freeze as a noise broke the silence.

It was a man's snore, coming from Georgiana's apartment.

He clenched his jaw as he realised that the man was still there and forced himself to lie down on his bare mattress, wrapping himself in the sleeping bag for warmth.

He was glad that he was working nights for the next few days.

* * *

Late the following afternoon, Bucky was heading out of his apartment to go grocery shopping. He was just locking his door behind him with he heard light footsteps on the stairs below. He instinctively turned, thinking that it might be Georgiana, but frowned deeply when a young man appeared on the landing below, clearly slightly out of breath from having jogged up the stairs.

Their eyes met, and to his surprise the man's expression brightened into a full grin. "You must be the neighbour," the man said in a distinctly British accent.

"I beg your pardon?" Bucky replied stiffly, on high alert lest this stranger prove to be a threat.

"Georgie told me about you," the man said smilingly, climbing up the last few steps towards him. "James, right?"

He nodded once, curtly, strongly suspecting that this was the man that had been in her apartment the night before.

The man grinned once more, holding out his hand to shake. "I'm Will, Georgie's brother."

Bucky blinked, relief suddenly flooding his system.

"Her brother?" he repeated, cautiously reaching out to shake the young man's hand. Looking at him, he could detect similarities to Georgiana; his hair was darker, but still had hints of auburn, and their eyes were the same shade, a light brown.

"Yeah, just over visiting for the weekend," the young man - Will - replied, pumping his hand before releasing it. He nodded his head towards the keys that Bucky still held in his gloved hand. "You heading out?"

"Just for a walk," Bucky said, still frowning a little and wondering why he wanted to know.

"Your walk wouldn't happen to be taking you past a pub, would it?" Will asked, a beseeching look in his eyes. "I was out with Georgie, but she had a study group that she couldn't miss this afternoon. Anyway, I stupidly decided to walk half way across the city to get back here and now I'm desperate for a pint."

Bucky opened his mouth, but couldn't formulate a reply. Just like Georgiana, her brother had a way of unleashing a torrent of information all at once.

Will took his silence for an acceptance. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink," he said, jerking his head towards the stairs. "You can tell me all the good stuff to do in the city; we don't have plans for tomorrow yet."

Without another word, he simply bounded back down the stairs, leaving Bucky to trail bemusedly after him.

* * *

Georgiana juggled her keys and bags as she opened the door to her flat, surprised to find it dark and empty since she had expected her brother to be here, having given him a key.

"Will?" she called out, flicking on the lights to reveal the air mattress on her floor, but no sign of her brother.

She sighed gustily and pulled out her phone - her brother was one of those people who was uncommonly smart, but lacked all common sense. God only knew where he might have ended up in an unfamiliar city; she knew she should have cancelled that study group when she'd realised that it clashed with her brother visiting, but Miriana had been insistent that she wanted to cover the material this week and Will had shrugged her off, saying that he was a grown man and didn't need a babysitter.

It rang three times before he answered.

"Hey there, runt!" Will said jovially, the long-standing nickname courtesy of her being the youngest of the family.

"Where are you?" she asked him, tossing her keys on the table and shrugging her coat off, switching the hand that she held the phone in as she did so. "I thought we were supposed to be meeting at the flat."

"We were, but I ended up in a disreputable establishment instead," Will replied, the distinct hubbub of people in the background around him.

Georgiana paused, raising her gaze to the ceiling. " _Please_ tell me you're talking about a pub and not a strip club."

"Yes, a pub," her brother said with a laugh. "Don't blame me though, your neighbour practically dragged me here."

"My neighbour?" She paused in confusion, having been rummaging around her bag. "James?"

"Yep."

"You're at a pub with _James_?" she checked, wanting to make sure she was hearing this right.

"That's what I _just_ said, Georgie," Will told her, a playful hint of patronisation in his tone.

"But … but he never goes out," she said bewilderedly, trying to reconcile the image of her practically reclusive neighbour being out in a pub with her brother. "Are you being serious?"

"Of course," Will said, chagrined. His voice was suddenly muffled, like he was holding the phone away from his mouth. "She doesn't believe me, are you a shut-in or something?" she heard him say to someone else, followed by a murmur that sounded like it could indeed be James.

Will's voice was suddenly at normal volume again, speaking into the phone once more. "Are you coming to join us or what?"

Georgiana shook her head slightly, still bemused by the whole situation. "Yeah … Where are you?"

Will rattled off the name of a pub, a fairly nice one just a few streets away.

"I'm on my way," she replied, picking up her coat, keys and bag to head out once again.

* * *

Bucky was sat in a state of completely bewilderment in a small but clean pub several streets away from the apartment building, a second half drunk beer held in his gloved hand. Georgiana's brother was carrying the conversation. Much like his sister, Will seemed to have noticed that he didn't talk much and was speaking more than enough for both of them.

Will was in the middle of a humorous story about some of Georgiana's antics as a girl (one that he somehow suspected she would have objected to him telling) when Bucky noticed Georgiana herself enter the pub, having automatically positioned himself so that he would be able to see the door and other exits.

She glanced around for a moment before spotting their table and making her way over, weaving between the chairs.

"Well, if it isn't my two favourite boys," she said with a wide smile - with the two siblings side by side, Bucky wondered how he hadn't been able to instantly guess that they were related; they had the same eyes, similar mouths and cheekbones.

"Took you long enough," Will grumbled good naturedly, getting to his feet and kissing his sister on the cheek. "What are you drinking?"

"Red wine, please," Georgiana said, shrugging off her jacket and taking a seat opposite Bucky.

"Same again?" Will asked him, nodding down to his half finished beer.

"Sure," he replied; Will had bought the first round, Bucky the second, the social interaction of being in a bar coming back to him and causing several memories to fire in his mind that he was itching to write down once he got back to his apartment.

Will weaved his way back towards the bar to place their order, meanwhile Georgiana cast a soft smile towards him over the table.

"Wasn't expecting to see you here," she said, not sounding disappointed about his presence in the slightest.

"Wasn't expecting to be here," he replied, taking a mouthful of his drink.

She laughed slightly. "He bully you into coming?"

"Something like that," he allowed, thinking how he, the worlds most infamous assassin, had wordlessly trailed after her brother when he had suggested a drink. There was a pause between them, then he added, "He's nice, your brother."

Georgiana pulled a face. "He's alright," she said, clearly joking since the affection between them was obvious even to him.

There was a brief silence as she helped herself to some of the nuts in the middle of the table then Bucky spoke once more.

"He reminds me of someone I used to know, but I can't think who," he said musingly. He had been struck by a feeling of familiarity as the two men had sat drinking and had spent half of the time Will had been speaking trying to think and remember.

"Maybe an old army buddy?" Georgiana suggested absently, scrutinising each peanut before she ate it.

" _We only got about a ten second window," Steve said, leading the mission and giving orders with natural authority. "You miss that window, we're bugs on the windshield."_

" _Mind the gap," a British voice said dryly, the man holding a pair of binoculars and scrutinising the valley that the train was due to pass through._

"Yeah …" Bucky said with a blink of surprise, caught up in the memory - he didn't have many memories of the Howling Commandos and suspected that the memory was of the mission when he had been captured.

"James?" she prompted quietly, and he realised he had been lost in thought for several long seconds

"There was a British guy in our group," he told her, blinking himself back to the present. "We called him Monty." He felt one corner of his mouth slowly twitch upwards as he thought back, other memories rising to the surface as well. "He had the stupidest moustache I've ever seen."

Georgiana smiled. "And what would your army buddies say if they could see the wild man scruff that you have going on?" she asked playfully, reaching across the table to brush her fingers under his chin.

Bucky grinned - a small one, but a grin nevertheless - the first smile he remembered giving in decades.

It seemed to take both of them equally by surprise since Georgiana blinked at him in shock, then a wide, thoroughly pleased smile spread over her face at having elicited such a response from him.

He rubbed a gloved hand over the lower part of his face and averted his eyes, suddenly a little self conscious. "Should probably shave it at some point," he said wryly, aware that wild man was probably a fair comment and that he wouldn't have been caught dead looking so scruffy in the forties, memories of shaving with a canteen of meltwater on the front lines rising to the forefront of his mind.

"It's not a bad look," she replied in a deceptively casual voice, her cheeks pinkening slightly at her words.

There was another brief pause between them.

"So what were you in the army?" Georgiana asked curiously, never having asked this of him before.

"A Sergeant," he replied honestly.

She hummed, smiling at him. "Sergeant James -" she cut herself off and blinked at him, straightening in her seat - "I've just realised I don't even know your last name! How crazy is that?" she said, laughing slightly.

He looked at her silently across the table, internally debating whether to tell her the truth or make up a surname.

"Barnes," he said determinedly - much as when he had given her the name James, he wanted to reclaim more of his identity. "Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

Georgiana looked thrilled, that alone convincing him that he had made the right decision in telling her despite the risks. "James _Buchanan_?" she repeated in a delighted tone. "Like the President?"

His mouth twitched once more at her reaction. "What can I say? My parents were patriots," he said lightly. There was another pause, then he added in a quiet voice, "My friend Steve used to call me Bucky, or Buck."

"You've not mentioned Steve before," she said, tilting her head at him.

"No …" Bucky said slowly, wondering how to explain Steve to her in a way that she would understand. "We grew up together in Brooklyn, were in the army together," he told her, that much at least being true. "He is - _was_ \- is … my best friend," he added, stumbling over the tense - was Steve still his friend, after everything that had happened?

"Do you still see him?" she asked curiously, obviously picking up on the queer note in his voice since her tone was now quiet and gentle instead of teasing.

He shook his head, looking down at the table and trying to wrestle down the memory of simply leaving Steve on the river bank in DC.

"Why not?" she wanted to know, her voice soft.

He didn't reply, staring down at the table as memories overwhelmed him.

"James?"

He finally raised his gaze to hers - this was something that he simply couldn't explain. "Let's just say we had a fight, and leave it at that, Ana," he said in a quiet, rasping voice.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but closed it as her brother arrived back at their table, juggling the drinks in his hands.

With the return of her brother, the conversation shifted away from him, with the talking mostly done by the two siblings with him joining in occasionally.

They stayed at the pub for another two drinks and Bucky was invited back to Georgiana's apartment to join them for dinner. He had to decline, claiming honestly that he needed to head to work this evening, and feeling a genuine pang of regret that he couldn't join them.

The three of them walked back to the apartment building together, with Georgiana's arm linked with her brother's as he complained at length about the cold, claiming that it was much colder here than it was in England.

The evening was indeed distinctly chilly with December practically upon them, though the streets of Bucharest were bright and lively. Inexplicably to Bucky, many shops already had Christmas decorations up, casting bright, twinkling lights over the city streets.

They said goodbye outside the doors of their apartment building and Bucky climbed onto his bike to head out to work, uncaring of the fact that he didn't have a helmet or proper protective clothing.

"Oh Jesus, he rides a _motorbike_?" he heard Will say quietly to Georgiana, his tone a mixture of alarmed and delighted by this fact. "Mum is going to _flip_ , Georgie."

"Shut _up_ , Will," he heard her reply under her breath as they headed on into the building, leaving Bucky wondering what they had meant.

* * *

 **Big thank you to auntkia** **for betaing!**

 **Leave a review my lovelies - but no Endgame spoilers, I've not seen it yet!**


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